"What am I doing here?" she asked, and she gazed round her, deeply puzzled.
He gave her a little more brandy, which she certainly stood in need of, and looking at her without speaking, he waited until more mind came into her face; and now she made an effort to rise.
"Keep still until you have come right to," said he. "I wish some old cart would come along to give us a lift to my father's."
"Your father's?"
"Doctor Hardy," he answered. "About an hour's walk away."
"Yes, I know," she exclaimed. "If a cart came I would not go."
"My dear Miss Armstrong, what are you doing here?" exclaimed young Hardy. "All alone in a dead faint in a ditch! Were you returning home?" And again he looked a little way up and down, thinking to see a handbag or a parcel, but her hands were as empty as his.
"I'm going to London," she said. "What time is it?"
"I'm going to London, too," said he; "but neither of us will catch the train we want. Do you mean to walk to London?"