“I’m awfully sorry. Can’t I do something?”
“I think I’ll go home.”
“But you can’t walk.”
“I think so. Isn’t this just too tiresome? I will walk.”
She rose to her feet at the word, but, once there, gave a cry, and stood tottering. His arm caught her about the waist.
“Where do you live? Near here anywhere?”
“Oh, yes; just up the lane. But it might as well be ten miles.” Her brave laugh was half a sob.
“Not a bit of it! Hold tight.”
She flushed and gave an astonished wriggle as she found herself lifted and borne up the lane.
“Don’t squirm so, child,” he ordered.