"Something has gone wrong with the works," he said, "we can't see what it is exactly in this gloom. I wonder if you would mind sitting here a little while I go and find out where we are? There may be somebody on hand who can help us to get along a bit."
Mrs. Lancing shook aside the rug.
"Do let me come with you?" she pleaded. "Really, I would much rather go, a walk will warm me up, and I shall feel so lonely without you. I believe I am frightened. May I come?"
Her pretty helplessness touched him, of course. And as he helped her to alight, Rupert Haverford felt his heart stir a little. So he supposed other men felt when they ministered to a wife or some one who had a tender claim on them.
They set off at a brisk pace down the hill.
Decidedly the fog was less thick, the bewildering effect on the eyes was passing, but it was still sufficiently cold and raw to make them shiver, though they were so warmly clad. Indeed, Mrs. Lancing was rather overweighted with her long coat, and her small feet stumbled every now and then.
Rupert Haverford drew her arm more closely through his.
He was conscious of a very tangible sense of pleasure in the near proximity of this pretty, womanly creature. The unconscious claim that she made upon his strength and protection moved him to tenderness, and her delightful affectation of indifference to any discomfort awakened his very real admiration.
"I have not the least idea where we are, but there must be a station somewhere near, I suppose," he said. "And if we can only borrow a trap, perhaps we shall be able to get back to Yelverton in time for dinner, after all. It must be somewhere about half-past four now. I am afraid you will never come out with me again, Mrs. Lancing. You see things can go crookedly with me at times! I am certainly out of luck to-day."
"I don't call this unlucky," Camilla said softly; and she nestled a little closer to him. She was meeting him on familiar ground at last.