"Excuse me for asking," said the man, "but since I have met you I have often wondered at you living alone at that little hut." His manner appeared to invite confidence.
"I expect I am somewhat of a hermit," I replied.
"But whatever induced you to live in such a place? Are you not afraid of tramps and that sort of thing?" and he nodded towards my little house.
"Tramps!" I replied. "I have not seen a tramp since I have been in Cornwall."
"Well, different people, different tastes!" and he laughed as he spoke. "But if I were you I should not live in such a lonely spot as that for whatever might be given me. Even in Cornwall it is possible to dispose of people, and you would be fair prey to any strolling vagabond."
"He might be wanting to frighten me," I said to myself. "I wonder what his purpose is?" and I could not help connecting him with old Father Abraham.
"Rather bad news of the war again," he went on, as if desiring to change the subject.
"As to that," I replied, "I thought it was rather good news, except for what the German submarines are doing."
"Yes, yes, the submarines, they are very bad."
"What brutes the Germans are," chimed in the woman. "They make me feel just murderous. Oh, I wish I were a man that I might join the Army."