Suddenly Clare shivered. Alwynne became instantly and anxiously practical.
"Clare, what am I thinking of? Go in at once—you'll catch a dreadful cold."
With unusual passivity Clare allowed herself to be hurried in. At the staircase Alwynne said good-bye, handing her her candle, and waiting till she should have passed out of sight. On the fourth step Clare hesitated, and turned—
"Alwynne—come to me for Christmas?"
Alwynne flung out her hands.
"Clare! I mustn't."
"Alwynne—come to me for Christmas?"
"You know I mustn't! You know you'd think me a pig if I did, now wouldn't you?"
"I expect so."
"But I'll come in for a peep at you," cried Alwynne, brightening, "while Elsbeth's at afternoon service. I could do that. And to say Merry Christmas!"