in freedom-taking, but with the unmistakeable expression of
shelter. So he stood and asked her what had happened.

'Thank you,' she said in the same measured tone. 'I am not
cold--I think. But it is safe now. Will you walk home very
fast, please? I promised Mr. Falkirk that I would be home by
eleven!'--There was an accent of real distress then.

'Do you know what o'clock it is now?' said Rollo, drawing out
his watch.

'I hoped--a while ago--it was near morning.'

He did not say what time it was. He put the little hand on his
arm, guided Hazel into the road, and began his walk homeward,
but with a measured quiet pace, not 'very fast.'

'Why did you wish it was morning?' he asked in the same way in
which he had spoken before. No haste in it; calm business and
self-possession; along with the other indications above
mentioned. It was cool, but it was the coolness of a man
intensely alive to the work in hand; the intonation towards
Wych Hazel very gentle.

'I thought I had to walk home alone,' she said simply. 'And I
wanted the time to come.'

'Please tell me the meaning of all this. You went to
Merricksdale this evening--last evening?'

'Yes.' Words did not come readily.

Rollo added no more questions then. He went steadily on,
keeping a gentle pace that Wych Hazel could easily bear, until
they came to the long grey stone house where she had once run
in from the storm. At the gate Rollo paused and opened it,
leading his companion up to the door.

'I am going to take you in here for a little while,' he said.
'We will disturb nobody--don't fear; I have a key.'

'In here?' she said, rousing up then. 'O no!--I _must_ go home,
Mr. Rollo. Did you bring me _this_ way--I did not notice.'

'You shall go home just as soon as possible,' he said; 'but
come in here and I will tell you my reasons for stopping.'

The door opened noiselessly. The moonlight showed the way,
shining in through the fanlights, and Rollo pushed open the
door of the library and brought his charge in there. The next
thing was to strike a match and light two candles. The room
looked very peaceful, just as it had been deserted by the
family a few hours before; Rosy's work basket with the work
overflowing it, the books and papers on the table where the
gentleman had been sitting; the chairs standing where they had
been last used. Past the chairs Rollo brought Wych Hazel to
the chintz sofa and seated her there with a cushion at her
back; drew up a