"It is odd that we should meet again here under such circumstances," he agreed, pleasantly amused over her astonishment. "And yet not so singular, either. It's a tight little island, this, and any two persons on it are more or less likely to run across each other in time."
"But I thought you were still in India," she said.
"It's three years since I came home. The governor died suddenly, and—well, there were things to be looked after."
Nina smiled, thinking of what Dr. Pottow had told her.
"Where's little boy blue that looks after the sheep?" she quoted. "Was that it?"
"Yes," he answered, "the sheep were part of it. But the quarry is the biggest job."
She wondered how she could be so rude to him after all he had done. Somehow it didn't just seem to her a gentleman's work. But he wasn't ashamed of it, evidently. And she was glad of that.
"I read in the newspapers about your misfortune," he told her. "I'm glad you came to Pottow. He's the best man on scars in all England."
"Scars," she repeated, remembering. But it would be ruder still to ask him about his. She wondered whether he really did think of her every time he shaved.
"He took an old scar out for me—a very delicate bit of work, too."