Come home.

Forget her." His tone was almost rough.

They walked on rapidly.

The high wind of a coming storm beat in their faces.

Beatrice felt tired and dispirited, and Bertram's agitation and complete change of manner puzzled her.
Presently they reached the house.
"Here we are at last; you will be glad of your supper," she said.
"No, thanks, I am not coming in." "Not coming in?
You promised.