Roger resented the intrusion of such a sound in such a place -- it was a sacrilege . When he came here to dream of her , only the loveliest of muted sounds should be heard -- the faintest whisper of trees , the half-heard , half-felt moan of surf , the airiest sigh of wind . He never read Wordsworth now or any other book . He only sat there and thought of her , his great eyes alight , his pale face flushed with the wonder of his love . She slipped through the dark boughs like a moonbeam and stood by the stone . Again he saw her quite plainly -- saw and drank her in with his eyes . He did not feel surprise -- something in him had known she would come again . He would not move a muscle lest he lose her as he had lost her before . They looked at each other -- for how long ? He did not know ; and then -- a horrible thing happened . Into that place of wonder and revelation and mystery reeled a hiccoughing , laughing creature , a drunken sailor from a harbour ship , with a leering face and desecrating breath . `` Oh , you 're here , my dear -- I thought I 'd catch you yet , '' he said . He caught hold of her . She screamed . Roger sprang forward and struck him in the face . In his fury of sudden rage the strength of ten seemed to animate his slender body and pass into his blow . The sailor reeled back and put up his hands . He was a coward -- and even a brave man might have been daunted by that terrible white face and those blazing eyes . He backed down the path . `` Shorry -- shorry , '' he muttered .
`` Did n't know she was your girl -- shorry I butted XXXXX .
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