'Her honour rooted in dishonour stood.
And faith unfaithful kept her falsely true.'
A tag that Miss Briggs had taught her in the schoolroom as an example of some eccentricity of grammar or other. It was sometimes true of life.
She must be prepared for anything. Archie might not act in hot blood: he might think things out, but she was not reassured. The Archie she knew had a habit of logical thought. And if this unfamiliar man of action came to the conclusion that it was not his business to succour the enemy within his gates, he would translate his ideas into deeds.
As she meditated the change she saw in Archie, a sound caught her ear, and looking up she saw Dick signalling to her from the edge of the clearing. With a shrug she walked across to him. She noticed that his hair was still untidy and his clothes crumpled from the night spent without his gear.
'This isn't fair!' she said, when she reached him.
'Is he here?' he asked anxiously.
'Archie's in the hills, but I promised ... why couldn't you wait?'
He stepped into the open. 'I couldn't, Norah, not alone; down on that shore.'
'I did last night.' She did not tell him she had not dared sleep or that she had taken to the hills as soon as she could see the white mist that rose from the warm water of the lake.
'I didn't have much of a night either,' said Dick, and related how Archie's identity had been disclosed.