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Peter finished the bread and cheese and the apple, and put the clasp-knife back into his pocket. From another pocket he pulled out a small book, the cover rather limp and worn. He tucked the bundle behind his back and opened the book. Its contents did not long engross him. [Pg 10]The warm May sun and the fact that he had tramped a considerable number of miles since sunrise had a soporific effect on Peter. His fingers gradually relaxed their hold, the book fell to the ground, and Peter slept.

His slumber was so deep that he did not hear the footfall of a man on the soft grass, nor did he stir when the man came near and stood looking down upon him. He was a man of medium height and build, with brown hair, small moustache, and rather light eyes. There was about him an air of finish, yet he quite escaped the epithet of dapper.

For a moment or so he stood looking down upon the recumbent figure. He took in every detail, from the frayed trousers and the spotless shirt to the fantastic feather in the hat. He saw that the sleeper’s face was clean-shaven, bronzed, and with rather high cheek-bones. The hair was dark. There was in the sleeping face a look of quiet weariness. To the man watching him it was the face of one who was lonely.