Trenholme kissed her little cold hand when he had put her in.

Then, last of all, he helped Sophia.
She had no words ready now to offer him by which to make amends.

"You have hurt your foot ?" she said.
He told her briefly that his foot had twisted under him, so that at first he had not been able to come on for the sprain, and he clasped her hand as he bade the waggon drive on.
Feeling the lack of apology on her own part she thought he had shown himself the greater, in that he had evidently pardoned her without it.
He did not feel himself to be great.
The cart jolted away.

Trenholme stood in the farmyard.

The light of a lantern made a little flare about the stable door.