“What does it matter?” she said, lightly. “I shall not hurt.”
“You will catch cold,” he said; “and that matters.” As he spoke he took off his Norfolk jacket. “Let me put this on?” he said.
But Esmeralda stared and declined.
“Why, you would get wet through with only your shirt-sleeves!” she said.
“Please,” he said, with a little air of command.
Esmeralda pouted; but she suffered him to put the jacket on her.
“It is ridiculous,” she said. But as she said it the color rose to her face. The jacket was warm. It almost seemed as if it were a part of himself. She glanced shyly at him as he stood beside her, sheltering her as much as possible.
“One would think I was something precious,” she said, with a little laugh.
He looked at her.
“You are,” he said; and though he spoke gravely, something in his voice deepened the color in her face.