Halfway down the lane forked , one branch going over to the house , the other slanting across the field to the cove . Turner took the latter and soon found himself on the grey shore where the waves were tumbling in creamy foam just as he remembered them long ago . Nothing about the old cove had changed ; he walked around a knobby headland , weather-worn with the wind and spray of years , which cut him off from sight of the Jameson house , and sat down on a rock . He thought himself alone and was annoyed to find a boy sitting on the opposite ledge with a book on his knee . The lad lifted his eyes and looked Turner over with a clear , direct gaze . He was about twelve years old , tall for his age , slight , with a delicate , clear-cut face -- a face that was oddly familiar to Turner , although he was sure he had never seen it before . The boy had oval cheeks , finely tinted with colour , big , shy blue eyes quilled about with long black lashes , and silvery-golden hair lying over his head in soft ringlets like a girl 's . What girl 's ? Something far back in Robert Turner 's dreamlike boyhood seemed to call to him like a note of a forgotten melody , sweet yet stirring like a pain . The more he looked at the boy the stronger the impression of a resemblance grew in every feature but the mouth . That was alien to his recollection of the face , yet there was something about it , when taken by itself , that seemed oddly familiar also -- yes , and unpleasantly familiar , although the mouth was a good one -- finely cut and possessing more firmness than was found in all the other features put together . `` It 's a good place for reading , sonny , is n't it ? '' he inquired , more genially than he had spoken to a child for years . In fact , having no children of his own , he so seldom spoke to a child that his voice and manner when he did so were generally awkward and rusty . The boy nodded a quick little nod . Somehow , Turner had expected that nod and the glimmer of a smile that accompanied it . `` What book are you reading ? '' he asked . The boy held it out ; it was an old Robinson Crusoe , that classic of boyhood . `` It 's splendid , '' he said .
`` Billy Martin lent it to me and I have to finish it today because Ned Josephs is to have it next and he 's XXXXX a hurry for it . ''
about although around as at for in on than to