"She went out," said Mrs. Bolitho, "about three hours back I should think."
"Went out!" he stormed at her. "And in this?"
Then, before she could say another word, he was gone. It was in very truth like an apparition.
She sat there for some time staring in front of her, still shaken by the violence of his interruption. She went then to the kitchen-door and listened—not a sound in the house. She went farther, out through the passage to the hall-door. She opened it and looked out. A sea of driving mist, billowing and driving as though by some internal breeze, met her.
"Poor things," she said to herself. "They shouldn't be out in this." She shut the door and went back into the house. She called, "Jim! Jim! Where are you?" At last he came, stumping up from some mysterious labour in the lower part of the house.
"What is't?" he said, startled by her white face and troubled eyes.
"The two of them," she said, "have gone out on to the moor in this mist. It isn't safe."
"Whatever for?" he asked.
"How should I know? She went out first and now he's after her. 'Tisn't safe, Jim. You'd best follow them."
He didn't argue with her, being an obedient husband disciplined by many years of matrimony.