So they reached Newlands Corner, and all southern Surrey stormed below them, and beyond Surrey stormed Sussex, and beyond Sussex the angry, unseen sea.
They stood looking, and Barry's arm still steadied Gerda against the gale.
Gerda thought "It will end. It will be over, and we shall be sitting at tea. Then Sunday will be over, and on Monday he will go back to town." The pain of that end of the world turned her cold beneath the glow of the storm. Then life settled itself, very simply. She must go too, and work with him. She would tell him so on the way home, when the wind would let them talk.
They turned their backs on the storm and ran down the hill towards Merrow. Gerda, light as a leaf on the wind, could have run all the way back; Barry, fit and light too, but fifteen years ahead of her, fell after five minutes into a walk.
Then they could talk a little.
"And to-morrow I shall be plugging in town," sighed Barry.
Gerda always went straight to her point.
"May I come into your office, please, and learn the work?"
He smiled down at her. Splendid child!
"Why, rather. Do you mean it? When do you want to come?"