'Don't tell Lyddy.' 'Not I,' replied Ackroyd.

'Just drink a drop and you'll be all right.
I'll see you home.

You feel better, don't you ?' Yes, she felt better, though her head ached miserably.

Soon she was able to walk, and longed to hasten away.

The landlady let her out by the private door, and Ackroyd went with her.
'Will you take my arm ?' he said, speaking very gently, and looking into her face with eloquent eyes.