"Don't need it. I am all protected, don't you see? Mr. Dillwyn, you are not going out?"
"Why not?"
"But you have nothing to call you out?"
"I beg your pardon. The same thing, I venture to presume, that calls you out,—duty. Only in my case the duty is pleasure."
"You are not going to take care of me?"
"Certainly."
"But there's no need. Not the least in the world."
"From your point of view."
He was so alertly ready, had the door open and his umbrella spread, and stood outside waiting for her, Lois did not know how to get rid of him. She would surely have done it if she could. So she found herself going up the street with him by her side, and the umbrella warding off the wind and rain from her face. It was vexatious and amusing. From her face! who had faced Sharnpuashuh storms ever since she could remember. It is very odd to be taken care of on a sudden, when you are accustomed, and perfectly able, to take care of your self. It is also agreeable.
"You had better take my arm, Miss Lois," said her companion. "I could shield you better."