"I guessed it," answered Marcos, who was always practical. "You will like some coffee. It is ordered. Come in and warm yourself while the horses rest."
He led the way towards the inn.
"What did you say?" he asked, turning on the threshold; for he had heard her mutter something.
"I said, 'Thank God'!"
"What for?"
"For your brains, my dear," she answered. "And your strong heart."
Sarrion was making up the fire when they entered the room--lithe and young in his riding costume--and he turned, smiling, to meet her. She kissed him gravely. There was always something unexplained between these two, something to be said which made them both silent.
"There is the coffee," said Marcos, "on the table. We have no time to spare."
"Marcos means," explained Sarrion significantly, "that we have no time to waste."
"I think he is right," said Sor Teresa.