As she gazed at the newcomer with some interest, she was conscious of an amused scrutiny in his eye. He was a tall well-knit man, with bronzed face and dark hair, and a certain humorous twist of countenance softened the otherwise stern ruggedness of feature.
"Not quite so dry and old as most of them," she thought, and she noted with appreciation his attire which, though irreproachable for a country gentleman, had a smartness and up-to-date appearance that was not usual amongst her grandfather's friends.
"And what is your favourite part of the world?" asked Colonel Douglas. "This?"—with a wave of his hand over the desolate marsh.
Jean was quite taken aback. She was not accustomed to be asked what were her likes or dislikes. She looked up at him earnestly.
"I should be happy anywhere away from this!"
A hidden fire and passion leapt to her eyes as she spoke, then she passed on, and the two men went their way.
"A sleeping volcano," said the Colonel. "Who is she?"
"The only granddaughter of Desmond—a good little thing in her way, I believe. She has not long been home from school. It is a dull life for her."
They commenced to talk of other things.
Jean soon came to a standstill.