She leaned in and took hold of his arm.
"If you back the waggonette against the steps, I can get out easier," he said.
"Of course, of course. Now then, Patsy, why didn't you think of that?" she exclaimed. "Turn the horses round while I stay with Mr. Durham."
She sat on the floor of the vehicle, still holding Durham's arm.
The touch of her hands, the sound of her voice as she maintained a steady stream of directions to Patsy, the fact of being so near to her, filled Durham with a gentle soothing. The dreaminess which had been upon him when the journey began, and before he sank into the contented slumber, returned. Her voice reached him as from a distance; his grip of the seats loosened, and as the waggonette turned he swayed until his head drooped upon the shoulder of the woman by his side.
Thereafter all was vague and misty until he came to himself and knew he was ascending the short flight of steps leading to the verandah, with Mrs. Burke supporting him on one side and Patsy the other.
As he reached the verandah his legs trembled beneath him, and he stood for a moment, leaning heavily upon the arms which supported him.
Again there came to his dulled brain the sound like a distant stifled cry.
"What's that?" he muttered. "What's that?"
"Oh, lean on me. Don't fall now. Oh, keep up, keep up. Sure what will the doctor say when he comes if you've hurt yourself?" the voice of Mrs. Burke said in his ear.