“Where are you going to take me?” she asked, as they left the hotel together.
Leo was watching anxiously her faltering steps. “Do you think that you can walk, Joan?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I must,” she said, with a faint smile. “It is only the glare of the light and the fresh air that make me so dizzy. Oh, yes, I’ll manage, if I may take your arm for a moment!”
Leonard gave her his arm, but stood still, sending a boy round the corner for a carriage. Another minute, and Joan was leaning back against the cushions, with shut eyes, and a strange sensation of being whirled through space. She made no attempt to rouse herself; and Leo said not a word; but presently the keen air, at first too strong, proved reviving, and Joan sat up.
They were by this time in a country lane, flanked by hedges, dressed in a sparkling veil of hoar-frost. Though a cold day, it was entirely still, and the sun shone from a blue sky.
“Better?” her companion asked.
“Yes. It is nothing—I am only stupid! What are you going to tell me about father?”
“We have not had our walk yet. No, I am not going to be unreasonable—” as she exclaimed indignantly. “But I don’t wish you to look again as you did ten minutes ago.”
She gave him a terrified glance.
“Then it is to be bad news?”