"I must go out," she said. "The night is alive and beckoning with its lovely fingers. The peace of it! Think of this night in the woods! I must go out, and you must take me, Myles."
"Not now, dearest one. It is much too late, and everything soaking wet after the rain."
"I can wrap up. I feel something that tells me this is the very last time I shall go out till—afterwards. Just an hour—a little hour; and you can drive me. I've got to go whether you will or not."
"Let us wait for the sun to-morrow."
"No, no—to-night. I want to go and feel the peace of the valley. I want to hear the Teign sisters kissing and cuddling each other under the moon. I'll put on those tremendous furs you got me at Christmas, and do anything you like if you'll only take me."
"Doctor Mathers would be extremely angry!" murmured her husband.
"He need know nothing about it. Don't frown. Please, please! It would hearten me and cheer me; and I promise to drink a full dose of the red wine when I come in. You shall pour it out. There—who could do more?"
She was gone to make ready before he answered, and Mark spoke.
"She cannot take hurt in this weather if she's wrapped up in the furs. The air feels like milk after the rain."
Stapledon therefore made no ado about it, but marched meekly forth, and himself harnessed a pony to the little low carriage purchased specially for his wife's pleasure.