"Ain't bin doin' nothin' wrong, I hope?" he said.
"Not to my knowledge," I replied.
"Cause you do'ant look much like a chap as is used to wearin' a sailor's clothes," he said.
"No," I answered. "What do I look like, then?"
He looked at my hands, then at my shooting suit, and again at my face, and replied slowly:
"Why, you do look look like a passen's son as hev got into trouble and be now runnin' away; ed'n that about right, now?"
"Not exactly," I said, "but I'm sure you'll allow me to change my clothes, won't you?"
He gave an unwilling consent at length, and I confess that, when I had put on a rough suit of seaman's clothes, I hardly knew myself. I went across the bridge to the little village of Egloshayle, and walked towards Slades Bridge, which lay in the direction of Bodmin.
"Now," I said to myself, "you are no longer Roger Trewinion, but a common fisherman, who is desirous of going to sea. Forget the past. Forget that you are the heir to a fine estate, forget that you have given up all for love."
But I could not do this. True, there was a sense in which all seemed like a dream, so that the past was misty; but above all was the fact of my great and burning love for Ruth, a love so intense as to lead me to sacrifice everything that she might be happy with the man whom she loved, and whom I hated, although he was my brother.