Elsie turned and looked him full in the face, without a trace of affectation or fear.
"Yes, Pip, I do," she answered.
It was long after six when they emerged from their retreat. The clouds were drifting up once more from the southwest, and everything promised a wet night. There was little wind, but already rain-drops were beginning to fall, unsteadily and fitfully. Presently this period of indecision ceased, and the rain came down in earnest. The two paused, and Pip surveyed Elsie's thin blouse disapprovingly.
"Isn't there some place where we can shelter?" said Elsie.
"There's a sort of tin place over there, but you would be soaked through before you got halfway to it. Besides, this rain means business; it'll go on all night now."
"Come along then," said Elsie; "we must hurry. I can change when we get home."
"Wait a minute," said Pip.
He began to divest himself of his tweed jacket.
"Put this on," he said.