“So do I,” he said, thinking that she looked pale and fatigued. “But for our sins we are in Woldshire, and we shall have to put up with coal fires and beefsteaks.”
She looked alarmed.
“Surely I shall not have to stay there?”
“That will depend on what state the roads and the lines are in; the snow is less thick about here. Where are you going to? Of course, horses cannot stir out in this frost.”
She avoided the direct question.
“Oh, well, it is an adventure; one must not complain. If I can get my poor woman to the town I will support its indifferent accommodation.”
“We will do the best we can, but the Thorpe mind is slow and uninventive. The rural brain in England is apt to be clogged with beer. Fortunately, however, whatever be its density, it always retains its perception of the value of shillings and sovereigns. We will try that gentle stimulant so appreciated in politics, so especially appreciated since bribery was made a crime.”
They had now come near enough to the town to perceive in the haze the square shoulders of its roofs and the tower of its famous church, all blurred and blotted by the fog like a too-much-washed water-color drawing. She did not seem to be tired, but she had lost her elasticity of movement; her eyes looked straight ahead, and no longer turned to meet his own frankly as they had done before. She seemed to wish to be silent, so he let the conversation drop, and walked on beside her mutely, as the straggling suburbs of a country town began to show themselves in the more frequent cottages, in the occasional alehouse, and in the presence of people in the roads, and in the small wayside gardens where they were scraping and sweeping clear little paths from the gates to the doors. Some of these, recognizing him, touched their hats; he spoke to the most capable-looking, told them briefly of the accident, and sent them on to the station-master, whilst he took his companion to the Bell Inn, an old house which had been a busy and prosperous place in the posting and coaching times of which he had spoken. It stood in the centre of a market-place, which was alive and noisy with country-folks once a week, but was now a desolate and well-nigh empty place filled with wind and driven snow.
“If you will rest here ten minutes,” he said to her, “I will come back as soon as I have seen the authorities and heard what they propose to do, and I will tell you if the lines are safe and the wires in working order. I am afraid you will find it very rough and uncomfortable, but they are lighting the fire and the landlady is a good soul; my cousins used to come and have some of her soup on hunting mornings; you will like her, I think.”
He held open the door of the only sitting-room, and as she passed within bowed very low to her and went out into the street again.