Roy would certainly not pass the stile——
She hesitated for a moment longer, and then suddenly got up from her bed.
Her clothes were wrapped in her waterproof; she took the waterproof and put it on. She thrust her feet into a pair of slippers. The waterproof was not so long as the garment beneath it; the moon was now well above the trees; it showed the hurrying white about her heels as she walked quickly up the hill. She drew the under-garment up a little. The waterproof was almost the colour of the scorched grass. The small shadow that preceded her was now the thing most plainly to be seen.
Over the stile she saw the shoulder of his white sweater. Again her caution awoke.
"You might have put a coat on," she said, a little out of breath. "You can be seen half-a-mile away on a night like this."
"I thought you were never going to hear me!" he said.
"Oh! You seem to have been sure I'd come if I did."
"Well, you have come, haven't you?" he answered. "I say, isn't your hair different?"
"Well, it isn't done for a call, if that's what you mean; I always do it like that at night, stupid. But I'm not going to stand here with you as white as a cottage wall."
Thereupon he paid her the only compliment he ever did pay her—and that was unintentional.