“Tom, I must go!” said she.
“Well, send round to the stables, and tell them to have the brougham out at once.”
“No, dear, I can’t wait.”
Tom got up.
“Well, you shan’t go alone. I shall come with you.”
“No, why should you?”
“Nonsense, May,” said Tom, putting on his hat and coat, and opening the front door. “Good Lord, it’s beginning to snow again! I was afraid it would.”
They walked on some time in silence, and then Tom, thrusting his hand through May’s arm, found she had only got a thin jacket on.
“May, you really shouldn’t come out like this,” he said. “You will catch your death of cold. You must go back and put something thicker on.”
“No, I can’t, I can’t,” said May quickly. “I may be too late as it is.”