He came forward, not very willingly, and stood within a couple of yards
of her, still looking as if he expected some sort of chastisement.

She faced him, and the last of her fear departed. Though he was so
terribly deformed that he looked like some dreadful beast reared on its
hind legs there was that about the face, sullen though it was, that
stirred her deepest feelings.

She did her best to conceal the fact, however. "Tell me why you threw
those stones!" she said.

"Because I wanted to hit you," he returned with disconcerting
promptitude.

She looked at him steadily. "How very unkind of you!" she said.

His eyes gleamed with a smouldering resentment. "No, it wasn't. I didn't
want you there. Dicky is coming soon, and he likes it best when there is
no one there."

She noticed that though there was scant courtesy in his speech, it was by
no means the rough talk of the fisher-folk. It fired her curiosity. "And
who is Dicky?" she said.

"Who are you?" he retorted rudely.

She smiled again. "You are not very polite, are you? But I don't
mind telling you if you want to know. My name is Juliet Moore. Now
tell me yours!"