"I ought to go in," she said. "It is getting late."
"I shan't keep you long," he said, and she noticed that it was plainly a foregone conclusion with him that she would grant him what he asked.
She turned back into the misty darkness with a short sigh of impatience.
"Walk to the end of the parade with me!" he said, and fell in beside her.
Later she wondered why she did not lodge a more energetic protest, for it was beginning to rain in earnest; but at the time it seemed inevitable that she should do as he desired.
She re-crossed the road with him, and turned to walk to the nearest end of the parade. They approached the spot where he had once laid peremptory hands upon her and drawn her out of danger. It was as they neared it that he suddenly spoke.
"I am sorry to have brought you out again into the wet. Will you come into the shelter?"
She acquiesced. The shelter was empty. She stepped within it and stood waiting.
He took out his cigarette and after a moment dropped it and set his heel upon it.
"I want to speak to you about your brother," he said. "And, by the way, before I forget it, I've promised to trundle him up to the Stables next Sunday to show him the animals. You will come too, won't you? I can give you tea at my house. It's close by."