“Please will you open the door for me, Mr. Brander? I—I don’t quite understand the lock.”
He came at once, and did the little service without a word. She looked out; it was still raining persistently, the heavy downpour having been succeeded by a fine drizzle.
“It hasn’t left off yet,” she said, timidly.
“No.”
They both stood still, looking out into the gathering darkness.
“Shall I lend you an umbrella?”
“Oh, if you would, I should be so glad. I will be sure to bring—send it back.”
He brought an umbrella from the stand, and opened it thoughtfully.
“If I lend you this one—it is the best, the lightest; the one I use when there’s a bishop about—I shall want it again early to-morrow morning—”
“I’ll be sure to—”