‘I must trust you, Martin,—trust you.’
Then he said no more, and sank back into half-consciousness.
‘How much farther?’ asked the man who walked. ‘I call this a cursed long half-hour. To women time is nought; but every moment to me is of consequence. I must push on.’
‘You have just promised not to desert your friend, your brother.’
‘It pacified him, and sent him to sleep again.’
‘It was a promise.’
‘You promise a child the moon when it cries, but it never gets it. How much farther?’
‘We are at Morwell.’
They issued from the lane, and were before the old gatehouse of Morwell; a light shone through the window over the entrance door.