She turned, to see Windebank standing before her, a Windebank stalwart as ever, with his face burned to the colour of brick red, but looking older and thinner than when she had last seen him. Mavis' heart sank.
"At last," he repeated. He looked as if he would say more, but he did not speak. She wondered if he were moved at seeing her again.
Mavis, not knowing what to say, put out her hand, which he clasped.
"Aren't you glad to see me?" he asked.
"Of course."
"And you're not going to run away again?"
She looked at him inquiringly.
"I mean as you did before, into the fog!"
"There's no fog to run into," she remarked feebly.
"Little Mavis! Little Mavis! I'd no idea you could look so well and wonderful as you do."