"What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. Her thought spoke aloud. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders.
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