Snow was falling when Zebedee at last drove up the road, and from the window of Mildred Caniper's bedroom Helen watched his huddled figure and the striving horse. She saw him look for the obliterated track and then turn towards the shelter of Brent Farm.
"Is he coming?" Mildred asked. She was childishly interested in his return.
"Yes. He has gone to put the horse up at the farm."
"He will be cold."
"Yes." Helen was cold, too.
"It is a dreadful day for driving."
"I don't think he minds that," she said in a dead voice.
"No. You had better go downstairs."
"When I see him starting back. He'll have to talk to Lily. No, he's coming now."
She stood at the window while she slowly counted twenty, and then she warmed her hands before she went.