"But there has been something. I thought it was Tom Elvey."
"Oh no, indeed!" with energy.
"I have been afraid, till the last few minutes. Was it anything I said or did?"
"No! Oh no!"
"Or something somebody else said? Mr. Carden-Cox!" with a sudden recollection of the postscripts.
"Please don't ask any more. It doesn't matter in the least. Nothing matters—now!" said Ethel. The colour rushed into her cheeks. "I only mean—please never think again that I could be vexed—"
"With me," Nigel concluded for her. Then in a quiet tone he added: "No, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters—now!"
Ethel turned off the gas in a great hurry, but not before he caught the flash of an answering glance, brighter than she knew it to be. Then they found their way to the door, and were out in the whirling gale. Ethel had to cling to his strong arm for support; and it came over her how easy life would be, thus clinging. She heard one question spoken by the way, spoken in the midst of their struggle, as the snow drifted in their faces—"Ethel, can you trust me?"
"Yes!" she answered at once, not asking what he meant.
"Even if—" and the sentence was not finished. Perhaps he hardly knew what he wished to say.