No answer. A sudden blast of wind swept along the road, and she instinctively laid hold of the shaft of the gig for support.
Dudley held out his hand.
"It is a high step," he said, "but I think you can manage it."
Mona took his hand almost unconsciously, tried to say something flippant, failed utterly, and took her seat in the gig without a word.
"Am I drugged?" she thought, "or am I going mad?"
Never in all her life had she so utterly failed in savoir-faire. She felt vaguely how indignant she would be next day at her own weakness and want of pride; but at the moment she only knew that it was good to be there with Dr Dudley.
He arranged the rug over her knees, and took the reins.
"Is this better than walking?" he asked in a low voice, stooping down to catch her answer.
Only for a moment she tried to resist the influence that was creeping over her.
"Yes," she said simply.