"There are not many hours of the night to wear out," he said.
"Can't you follow your neighbour's example?"
She shook her head.
"This watching is too hard for you. You will have another headache to-morrow."
"No, perhaps not," she said, with a grateful look up.
"You do not feel the cold now, Elfie?"
"Not at all not in the least I am perfectly comfortable
I am doing very well."
He stood still, and the changing lights and shades on Fleda's cheek grew deeper.
"Do you know where we are, Mr. Carleton?"
"Somewhere between a town the name of which I have forgotten, and a place called Quarrenton, I think; and Quarrenton, they tell me, is but a few miles from Greenfield. Our difficulties will vanish, I hope, with the darkness."
He walked again, and Fleda mused, and wondered at herself in the black fox. She did not venture another look, though her eye took in nothing very distinctly but the outlines of that figure passing up and down through the car. He walked perseveringly; and weariness at last prevailed over everything else with Fleda; she lost herself, with her head leaning against the bit of wood between the windows.