"No, I'm not going."
Reluctantly she let go his hand. He shook down the coals of the stove, put on some sticks of wood, brought coverlets to put over her.
"Mary, you're wet through.... Don't you want me to speak to Mrs. Lewis, get you some dry clothes?"
"No, no—no! I'll be warm in a minute...."
She sat up, gathered her loose hair together, trying to wind it into a knot.
"Look here, Mary, I have a warm dressing-gown. Take off your wet dress and put it on—go into my room there. And take off your shoes—good heavens, you've only got thin slippers! Here, I'll get you my slippers.... I'll bring the things, you can change here."
"No, I'm all right now. I'll go in there."
She stood up and moved without faltering. When she came out, wrapped in the grey gown, her hair smoothed back and rolled into a heavy knot, she had regained something of her usual manner. But she was deadly pale and her eyes looked dull and dazed, as though she had received a heavy blow. She sat down before the fire. Hilary sat near her, and holding his hand tightly in both hers, she told him in broken sentences what she had discovered.
"You must tell me what to do.... I shall never go back to him."
Hilary was silent.