I caught her hand, crying in a low whisper, ‘No, no.’
‘What else?’ she asked, again sitting up and looking at me.
‘We must make a push for safety, as we meant to before.’
‘Safety?’ Her lips bent in a sadly derisive little smile. ‘What is this safety you talk about?’ she seemed to say.
‘Yes, safety.’
‘Ah, yes, you must be safe,’ she said, appearing to awake suddenly to a consciousness of something forgotten. ‘Ah, yes, my lord, you must be safe. Don’t linger, my lord. Don’t linger!’
‘Do you suppose I’m going alone?’ I asked, and, in spite of everything, I could not help smiling as I put the question. I believe she really thought that the course in question might commend itself to me.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t go alone. But I—I can’t cross that awful bridge.’
‘Oh yes, you can,’ said I. ‘Come along,’ and I rose and held out my arms towards her.
She looked at me, the tears still on her cheeks, a doubtful smile dawning on her lips.