His last speech seemed to have been outside the orbit of her comprehension or interest.
"You need not be afraid of me any more, Everard," she said, a little pathetically.
"I have no fear of you," he answered.
"Then why don't you bring your chair forward and come and sit a little nearer to me ?" she asked, raising her eyes.

"Do you hear the wind, how it shrieks at us?
Oh, I am afraid!" He moved forward to her side, and took her hand gently in his.

Her fingers responded at once to his pressure.

When he spoke, he scarcely recognised his own voice.

It seemed to him thick and choked.
"The wind shall not hurt you, or anything else," he promised.