"You feel better now, mademoiselle?" Vauquelin enquired, hastening to loosen her fastenings.
"I'm better—yes, thank you," she admitted in a small, broken voice—"but not yet quite myself."
She gave a hand to the aviator, the other to Lanyard, and as they helped her to the ground, Lanyard, warned by his experience, stood by with a ready arm.
She needed that support, and for a few minutes didn't seem even conscious of it. Then gently disengaging, she moved a foot or two away.
"Where are we—do you know?"
"On the South Downs, somewhere?" Lanyard suggested, consulting
Vauquelin.
"That is probable," this last affirmed—"at all events, judging from the course I steered. Somewhere well in from the coast, at a venture; I don't hear the sea."
"Near Lewes, perhaps?"
"I have no reason to doubt that."
A constrained pause ensued. The girl looked from the aviator to Lanyard, then turned away from both and, trembling with fatigue and enforcing self-control by clenching her hands, stared aimlessly off into the mist.