Suddenly she remembered the opossum rug she had left.

She opened the door leading from Maule's room into the veranda, and went out.

She stood bewilderedly, looking across the faint-lit yard to the dim veranda of the kitchen wing opposite, as she fought against the sick faintness that threatened to overcome her.
Then she walked along the veranda to the place where she had parted from Maule.

The rug was lying there, and she threw it round her, and waited on the steps with chattering teeth and shaking limbs.
In a minute or two, he joined her.

She saw by the fitful moonbeams that he was wet and muddy--truly in a worse plight than herself.