"Not in your wet things!" Muriel exclaimed. "No, Nick! Listen! I am not wet, not as you are. Let me go to Olga first. You can send me some coffee in her room if you like. But you must go at once and change. Promise you will, Nick!"
She spoke urgently. For some reason the occasion seemed to demand it.
Nick was silent for a little, as if considering. Then as they finally reached the porch he spoke in a tone she did not altogether fathom.
"I say, you are not going to shut me out, you know."
She looked up in astonishment. "Of course not. I never dreamt of such a thing."
"All right," he said, and this time she knew he spoke with relief. "I will do as you like then."
A moment more, and he opened the door, standing aside for her to pass. She entered quickly, glad to be in shelter, and paused to slip off her streaming waterproof. He took it from her, passing his hand over her sleeve.
"You are sure you are not wet through?"
"Quite sure," she told him. "Take me straight up, won't you?"
"Yes. Come this way."