She looked at him, “Do you know—I haven’t had anything to eat all day—not since breakfast?”
“Good heavens!” he said. “You’ve been wandering about the moor starving all this time?”
She smiled. His concern touched her. Not for years had anyone expressed any anxiety for her welfare.
“Not wandering about much,” she said. “I got as far as this this morning, and then, while I was considering which way to go, I fell asleep.” She glanced about her uneasily. “Do you think this fog is going to get any worse?”
“Oh no!” he said lightly. “It’s nothing. They often come up like this in the evening. But look here! I can’t have you starving. We had better make for Fordestown after all.”
“But—is it far?” She still hesitated. “Do you know the way?”
“I know the direction. I can’t say how far it is. But it is nearer than Brookside. There is a fairly decent inn there. I am staying there myself.”
“Oh!” she said with relief. “Then if we can only get there, you can motor me back to Brookside.”
“The point is to get there,” said Montague.
“But you know the direction. Do let us start before it gets any worse! I am quite rested.”