'No,' said I, 'I don't for one moment believe in its belonging to
you, any more than it belongs to the Queen of the "Fair People." But
if you'll let me put it on your head I'll give you the hat I've
found,' and with a rapid movement I advanced and put it on her head.
I had meant to seize that moment for saying what I had to say, but
was obliged to wait.

An expression of such genuine distress overspread her face, that I
regretted having taken the liberty with her. Her bearing altogether
was puzzling me. She seemed instinctively to feel as I felt, that
raillery was the only possible attitude to take up in a situation so
extremely romantic--a meeting on the sands at night between me and
her who was neither child nor woman--and yet she seemed distressed at
the raillery.

Embarrassment was rapidly coming between us.

There was a brief silence, during which Winifred seemed trying to
move away from me.

'Did you--did you see me from the cliffs, sir, am; come down?' said
Winifred.

'Winifred,' said I, 'the polite thing to say would be "Yes"; but you
know "Fighting Hal" never was remarkable for politeness, so I will
say frankly that did not come down from the cliff's on seeing you.
But when I did see you, I wasn't very likely to return without
speaking to you.'