” “You want to change my look, yes?” Lucy peered at her. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. The rear of the party was brought up by a large, powerfully-built man, with a bluff, honest, but rugged countenance, slashed with many a cut and scar, and stamped with that surly, sturdy, bull-dog-like look, which an Englishman always delights to contemplate, because he conceives it to be characteristic of his countrymen. This also struck her as odd.
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