“No, I shouldn't like to be left here alone.”
His face brightened again.
“How near is the nearest cottage?” she asked.
“There's none nearer than the one which we passed on the road—on the other side of the wood, you know.”
“Then I must try to get there. You must help me up.”
He sprang to his feet and stooped over her, doubting how to begin helping her. He had never felt so shy in his life. He held out his hands.
“I think you must put your arm round me,” she said, after looking at him for a moment. He lifted her on to her feet.
“Now let me lean on your arm. There, I dare say I shall manage to hobble along well enough;” and she made a brave attempt to walk. But the moment the injured foot touched the ground, she stopped with a catch at her breath, and a shiver, which went through Tom like a knife; and the flush came back into her face, and she would have fallen had he not again put his arm round her waist, and held her up. “I am better again now,” she said, after a second or two.
“But Mary, dear Mary, don't try to walk again. For my sake. I can't bear it.”
“But what am I to do?” she said. “I must get back somehow.”