She could not but see the advisability of this, also she was very tired, the going for these two hours had not been easy, and it had come at the end of a long day. She would not admit, even to herself, that she was tired, but she was, so she agreed to the waiting; after all, it was impossible to pretend longer that they were going to get home easily, and were not really hopelessly astray. "We will go a little way in among the trees," Rawson-Clew said; "it is more sheltered, and we shall be able to find the way quite as easily from one place as another when the fog lifts." They found as sheltered a spot as they could, and sat down under a big tree; as they did so his hand came in contact with Julia's wet sleeve and cold arm. "How cold you are!" he said. "You have nothing on." "Oh, yes, I have," she assured him. "I did not avail myself of your permission this morning." He took off his coat and put it round her. But she threw it off again. "That won't do at all," she said; "now you have nothing on, and that is much more improper; women may sit in their shirt sleeves, men may not." "Don't be absurd!" he said authoritatively; "you are to keep that on," and he wrapped it about her with a decision that brought home to her her youth and smallness. "You are shutting all the damp in," she protested, shifting her point of attack, "and that is very unwholesome. I shan't get warm; I haven't any warmth to start with; you are wasting what you have got to no purpose." But he did not waste it, for eventually it was arranged that they sat close together under the tree, with the coat put as far as it would go over both of them. Rawson-Clew was not given to thinking how things looked, he did what he thought necessary, or advisable, without taking any thought of that kind; so it did not occur to him how this arrangement might look to an unprejudiced observer, had there been any such. But Julia, with her faculty for seeing herself as others saw her, was much, though silently, amused as she thought of the Van Heigens. Poor, kind folks, they were doubtless already wondering what could have become of her; if they could only have seen her sitting thus, with an unknown man, what would their Dutch propriety have said? "Do you suppose this fog will be in the town?" Rawson-Clew said, after a time. "No," she answered, "I should think not; from what I have heard, I think it is very unlikely." "Then the Van Heigens won't know what has become of you?" "Not a bit in the world; they don't even know where I was going to-day. I did not tell them; I am afraid they will be rather uneasy about me, but perhaps not so very much, they know by this time I can take care of myself; besides, I shall be home before bed-time, if the fog lifts."