'And not quite so much of your airs and graces, Madam,' Midmore returned, 'or I won't let you use our drive as a short cut any more.'
'Oh, I'll be good. I'll be good.' Her voice changed suddenly. 'I swear I'll try to be good, dear. I'm not much of a thing at the best. What made you....'
'I'm worse--worse! Miles and oceans worse. But what does it matter now?'
They halted beside the gate-pillars.
'I see!' she said, looking up the sodden carriage sweep to the front door porch where Rhoda was slapping a wet mat to and fro. 'I see.... Now, I really must go home. No! Don't you come. I must speak to Mother first all by myself.'
He watched her up the hill till she was out of sight.
THE FLOODS
The rain it rains without a stay