"My word!" he said, "the wind is cold. Keep the rug round you." "No, I don't like it." She pushed it off. "I can't bear the smell of it." "I'm sorry," he said. "It's clean enough." "I didn't think it was dirty," she explained, and a few minutes afterwards, she added, "I'm sorry I was rude, George." "You're tired," he said again. "Drive quickly, won't you?" He whipped up the horse, and the wind roared behind them; they passed men and women staggering against it. "Will there be snow?" she asked him. He bent his ear to her, and again she shouted, "Will there be snow?" "Feels--rather like it," he boomed back. "I never knew such a year. And they'd begun burning the heather!" "Had they? Did you say burning heather? Then the fires will be put out. George, they'll be put out!" He nodded, thinking this a small thing to shout about, in such a wind. She had forgotten about the fires, but now she looked at the grey sky and hoped the snow would come. She imagined the first flake hissing on the fire, and more flakes, and more and more, until there was no smoke to veil the god, only a thick wet blanket for his burial. She had loved his moor, yet he had forsaken her; she had been afraid to hope, she had gone humbly and she had prayed, but now she need pay him no more homage, for she had nothing more to fear, and she whispered to the snow to hurry and avenge her. When they were nearly home, George spoke again. "Are you very cold?" "I'm warmer now." "I'll drive you up the track." "I'd rather get out here. Stop, George, please." "Wait till I help you down," he said, and jumped off on the other side. "My feet are numb," she said, looking at the arms he held for her. "I'll catch you." "I'm not so bad as that." She climbed down stiffly while he watched her, and in some way she felt herself more injured by the quality of his gaze than she would have been by his clasp. Without looking at him, she said good-bye and made a step or two. "But I shall see you again." "One--one supposes so!" "I mean tonight." "I--don't know." "Leave the blind up so that I can see if you're alone." She made no answer, and when she had run lamely up the track, she turned at the door to see her husband still standing in the road. Lily met her in the hall and said, "Mrs. Caniper's asleep, and she's better, my dear. She seems happier, somehow. So George Halkett brought you home. A good thing, too. Come into the kitchen and get warm. I'll make some tea and toast for you. You're frozen. Here, let me take off your boots. Sit down." "I can do it, thank you." "But you're going to let me, just to please me." Helen submitted and lay back. "You look nice with the firelight on you." "Hadn't that man a rug?"