I tried, but--.

You will have to go and get me a carriage, if you please." Keith rose and began to gather up his books and stuff them in his pockets.
"No carriage can get up here; the pines are too thick below, and there is no road; but I will carry you down to where a vehicle can come, and then get you one." She took a glance at his spare figure.

"You cannot carry me, you are not strong enough I want you to get me a carriage or a wagon, please.
You can go to the hotel.

We are stopping at the Springs." By this time Gordon had forced the books into his pocket, and he squared himself before her.
"Now," he said, without heeding her protest; and leaning down, he slipped his arms under her and lifted her as tenderly and as easily as if she had been a little girl.
As he bore her along, the pain subsided, and she found opportunity to take a good look at his face.

His profile was clean-cut; the mouth was pleasant and curved slightly upward, but, under the weight he was carrying, was so close shut as to bring out the chin boldly.