“Come home with your best friend.”
He knew that she was in no mood to submit to reprimand, to appreciate argument, or even to listen to entreaty, and that he might as profitably undertake to knead pig-iron as expostulate with her at this juncture.
For a mile they walked on without uttering a word; then he felt the fingers relax, twitch, and twine closely around his own.
“Dr. Grey, where is Muriel? Where is your buggy?”
“Both are at home, where others should have been, long ago.”
“You walked back to meet me?”
“I did.”
“How did you find me, in the dark?”
“I heard your voice.”
“But not the words?”