"She had to," said Trotter forcibly. "That doesn't prove anything. And what's more, she objected to being carried."
"Um! What did she say?"
"Said she didn't in the least mind getting her feet wet. She'd have her boots off as soon as she got into the house."
"Is that all?"
"She said she was awfully heavy, and—Oh, there is no use talking to me. I know how to take a hint. She just didn't want me to—er—carry her, that's the long and the short of it."
"Did she struggle violently?"
"What?"
"You heard me. Did she?"
"Certainly not. She gave in when I insisted. What else could she do?" He whirled suddenly upon Mr. Bramble. "What are you grinning about, Bramby?"
"Who's grinning?" demanded Mr. Bramble indignantly, after the lapse of thirty or forty seconds.