They showed no signs of breaking, and she was just about to resume her weary waiting on the seat within the shelter, when quick steps sounded to her left, and Garth Trent reappeared, carrying an umbrella and with a man's overcoat thrown over his arm.
"It's going to rain for a good two hours yet," he said abruptly.

"You'd better come up to the house." Sara gazed at him in silent amazement; the invitation was so totally unexpected that for the moment she had no answer ready.
"Unless," he added sneeringly, misinterpreting her silence, "you're afraid of the proprieties ?" "I'm far more afraid of taking cold," she replied promptly, preparing to evacuate the summer-house.
"Here, put this on," he said gruffly, holding out the coat he had brought with him.

"There's no object in getting any wetter than you must." He helped her into the coat, buttoning it carefully under her chin, his dexterous movements and quiet solicitude contrasting curiously with the detachment of his manner whilst performing these small services.

He was so altogether business-like and unconcerned that Sara felt not unlike a child being dressed by a conscientious but entirely disinterested nurse.
When he had fastened the last button of the long coat, which came down to her heels, he unfurled the umbrella and held it over her.
"Keep close to me, please," he said briefly, nor did he volunteer any further remark until they had accomplished the journey to the house, and were standing together in the old-fashioned hall which evidently served him as a living room.
Here Trent relieved her of the coat, and while she stood warming her feet at the huge log-fire, blazing half-way up the chimney, he rang for his servant and issued orders for tea to be brought, as composedly as though visitors of the feminine persuasion were a matter of everyday occurrence.
Sara, catching a glimpse of Judson's almost petrified face of astonishment as he retreated to carry out his master's instructions, and with a vivid recollection of her last encounter with him, almost laughed out loud.
"Please sit down," said Trent.

"And"-- with a glance towards her feet--"you had better take off those wet shoes." There was something in his curt manner of giving orders--rather as though he were a drill-sergeant, Sara reflected--that aroused her to opposition.