But the point is--we should not have left you.' She was too feeble to protest.

Manisty spoke to the man leading the horse, bidding him draw on one side, so as to avoid a stony bit of path.

Then the reins fell from her stiff right hand, which seemed to be still trembling with cold.

Instantly Manisty gathered them up, and replaced them in the chill fingers.

As he did so he realised with a curious pleasure that the hand and wrist, though not small, were still beautiful, with a fine shapely strength.
Presently, as they mounted the steep ascent towards the Sforza Cesarini woods, he made her rest half way.
'How those stones must have jarred you!'-- he said frowning, as he turned the horse, so that she sat easily, without strain.
'No! It was nothing.