I walked briskly to keep the chill out, following the winding road, but
so wrapt in my thoughts that I hardly noticed where I was going till I
found myself passing from the metalled highway on to the rough track that
led one beyond the last of the farms out to the desolate stretch of
country at the nor' west end of the island. At both sides, and especially
on the north, the rocks rose here till they became genuine cliffs, not
very high, but rugged and broken, with little hollows dipping down
through them here and there and giving scrambling access to small coves.
I kept along near this northern cliff line, still thinking all the while,
until with a start and a quickening of my heart I became abruptly
conscious of a figure fifty yards or so ahead.
I had a sudden dim recollection; he seemed disturbingly familiar, and
then in a moment I recognised Jock, though why the sight of Jock should
rouse a disturbing thought was more than I could say. When I saw him he
was close to one of those little dips, but whether he had been down at
the shore or not, I could not say, for up to that instant I had been
quite inattentive. But in any case Jock was such a chronic aimless
wanderer that his appearance anywhere never surprised his acquaintances.
Evidently he recognised the harmless eccentric Mr. Hobhouse quickly
enough, for he broke into a shambling trot and came towards me with an
unusual air of eagerness.
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