It was the meaning of the question she had put to him as soon as they were alone--even though indeed, as from not quite understanding, he had not then directly replied; it was the meaning of everything else, down to the conscious quaintness of her ricketty "growler" and the conscious humility of her dress.

It had helped him a little, the question of these eccentricities, to let her immediate appeal pass without an answer.

He could ask her instead what had become of her carriage and why, above all, she was not using it in such weather.
"It's just because of the weather," she explained.

"It's my little idea.
It makes me feel as I used to--when I could do as I liked." XVIII This came out so straight that he saw at once how much truth it expressed; yet it was truth that still a little puzzled him.

"But did you ever like knocking about in such discomfort ?" "It seems to me now that I then liked everything.