Her hand was hot and a little damp when Drake took it, and her face was somewhat flushed. She had all at once become ashamed that she had come to ask him for anything, and she took out her pocket-handkerchief and began to roll it in her palms. He misunderstood her agitation, and trying to cover it he offered her his arm and took her across the bridge, and they turned westward down the path that runs along the margin of the lake.
“Mr. Storm has gone,” she said, thinking to explain herself.
“I know,” he answered.
“Is it generally known, then?”
“I had a letter from him yesterday.”
“Was it about me?”
“Yes.”
“You must not mind if he says things, you know.”
“I don't, Glory. I set them down to the egotism of the religious man. The religious man can not believe that anybody can live a moral life and act on principle except from the religious impulse.... I suppose he has warned you against me, hasn't he?”
“Well—yes.”