"No," she answered, shortly.
He stood by her side, scarcely knowing what to do. He could have taken her up in his arms and carried her as easily as though she had been a baby. The very thought of holding her so made him tremble; but, then, she would never let him.
"I wish Steve were here," he said.
"Why?" sharply. "What could Steve do that you cannot?"
"Steve could help you; you wouldn't mind him, he's clean."
"Steve couldn't carry me."
"No, that's true. Steve's but a weakly chap, but"—loyally—"he's clean!"
"Go and fetch someone to help me."
"And leave you here alone? Not I." He looked down upon her, at her lovely hair, at her laughing eyes; then he looked at her white dress. "Will it wash?" he asked, touching it.