and soul rather wildly adrift, he had refused
credence to the apparent evidence of his own senses. Now in broad
daylight, the generous sunshine flooding him, the smooth river purring
and glittering at his feet, belief in grim and ghostly happenings became
more than ever inadmissible, not to say quite arrantly grotesque. Yet
Damaris' version of those same happenings tallied with his own in every
point. And that her conviction of their reality was genuine, profound
indeed to the point of pain, admitted neither of question nor of doubt.

CHAPTER VII

A CRITIC IN CORDUROY

William Jennifer, who successfully combined in his single person the
varied offices of ferryman, rat-catcher, jobbing gardener, amateur
barber, mender of sails and of nets, brought the heavy, flat-bottomed
boat alongside the jetty. Shipping the long sweeps, he coughed behind his
hand with somewhat sepulchral politeness to give warning of his presence.

"Sweethearting--lost to sight and hearing, espoused to forgetfulness," he
murmured, peering up at the two cousins standing in such close proximity
to one another upon the black staging above.

For William Jennifer was a born lover of words and maker of phrases,
addicted to the bandying of pleasantries, nicely seasoned to their
respective age, sex and rank, with all he met; and, when denied an
audience, rather than keep silence holding conversation with himself.

The hot morning induced thirst, which, being allayed by a couple of pints
at Faircloth's Inn, induced desire for a certain easiness of costume. His
waistcoat hung open--he had laid aside his coat--displaying a broad
stitched leather belt that covered the junction between buff corduroy
trousers and blue-checked cotton shirt. On his head, a high
thimble-crowned straw hat, the frayed brim of it pulled out into a poke
in front for the better shelter of small, pale twinkling eyes set in a
foxy face.

The said face, however--for all its sharp-pointed nose, long upper lip,
thin gossipy mouth, tucked in at the corners and opening, redly
cavernous, without any showing of teeth, a stiff sandy fringe edging
cheeks and chin from ear to ear--could on occasion become utterly blank
of expression. It became so now, as Tom Verity, realizing the fact of its
owner's neighbourhood, moved a step or two away from Damaris and,
jumping on board himself, proceeded with rather studied courtesy to hand
her down into the boat.

"Looks as there might have been