“Where are you?” he called.
“Oh, Mister!?” The shrill cry held gladness and relief.
Then she came out of the blackness, the ends of a white nubia and a little shoulder cape snapping in the wind, her breath coming short in a sound that was a mixture of exhaustion and sobs.
“I was afraid I couldn’t find you till daylight. I heard a bell, but I didn’t know where to go, it’s such a dark night. I ran all the way, nearly, till I played out.”
“What’s the row?” he asked gently.
She slipped both arms through one of his and hugged it convulsively, while in a kind of hysteria she begged:
“Don’t send me back, Mister! I won’t go! I’ll kill myself first. Take me with you—please, please let me go with you!”
“Tell me what it’s all about.”
She did not answer, and he urged:
“Go on. Don’t be afraid. You can tell me anything.”