There seemed nothing to be done but to soothe and sympathise, sitting as still as possible, stroking Norah's hair, and striving to shield her from the biting wind. The short-sighted eyes looked quite different bereft of their glittering glasses. The aggressive expression had given place to one of pitiful appeal. Norah had never before experienced severe physical pain; it seemed to her like some savage monster lying in wait to grip her with its claws. She lay with her eyes strained on Dreda's face, feeling herself in Dreda's power, terrified lest Dreda should fail her in her need. "Dreda, am I heavy? Does it tire you to hold me? I've read that people get cramped sitting in one position--that it hurts like a real pain. Oh, Dreda, but it can't be like my pain! Something terrible has happened to my leg. It is broken--or fractured. You can't imagine how it feels. The least movement seems to stab through my whole body. Even if you _do_ get cramped, Dreda, will you promise me to sit still--not to move or shake me until some one comes?" Dreda hesitated miserably. "I'll try, Norah. I _will_ try! I can't bear to say no when you ask me, but I feel as if it were wrong to promise. It _can't_ be good for you to _lie_ here in the cold and the damp. And you ought to see a doctor at once. You will have to be moved some time, and it is bound to hurt. Couldn't you make up your mind and be very, very brave, and let me put you down and run for help _now_? Indeed, indeed it would be best!" But poor Norah did not feel at all brave. She shuddered and cried, and clutched Dreda tight with her trembling hands, so that it seemed impossible to deny her request.