"That policeman did not come to the Tough Nut Claim on Sunday."
"Didn't he, Uncle?"
"Why didn't he come?"
"I'm sure I don't know. He doesn't belong to me. Do you want him very much, Uncle?"
"Want him? Of course, I don't want him. What should I want him for? Now, answer me this—what are your intentions with regard to Mr. Ramsay?"
"I was just thinking about that." She perched on the table beside him. "The saucepan's too small, you see. Would you like him poached?"
Since there was but little change to be got out of Miss Violet, Mr. Burrows went off fuming and fussing in search of his guest, who was discovered in a state of innocent bliss, fishing with rod and line from the edge of the great precipice.
"What are you doing?"
"Hush, you'll disturb the swallows. One of them pecked my worm."
"Haw—ah—indeed." Mr. Burrows sat down on the next rock, grunting. "Mister Ramsay, I know that these matters are delicate, and require to be dealt with by a man of tact."