"Oh, yes—I—think so."
And she tottered forward.
"I—I—you'll just have to help me——"
"I thought so!" he said quickly.
Half shyly, after the manner of men unaccustomed to intimacy with women, he put an arm round her. She clung to him, marvellously appealing in her helplessness.
Intent on her welfare, he brought her to an arm-chair and pulled it up to the big stove, she murmuring little gasps of thanks.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I went—to the dance at the—Quadrille Club—with a—party from town. I told them—I could get across—the parade-ground—alone. But all the lights are out—and you can't see a thing—for the snow. I—got lost. I must—have—wandered round for hours. I'm all tired out—and nearly—frozen! If it hadn't been for your light, I—don't just know—"
Nervously overwrought, she was beginning to cry.
"All right—all right!" he said hastily. "Soon put you right. Let's see your face."