Once again she could hear the horrifying crash as the engine hurled itself against the track that blocked the metals, feel the swift pall of darkness close about her, rife with a thousand terrors, and then, out of that hideous night, the grip of strong arms folded round her, and a voice, harsh with fear, beating against her ears: "Are you hurt?
.

.

.

My God, are you hurt ?" When she opened her eyes again, the little party of three had taken their places and were composedly following the service.

Apparently he had not seen her, and Diana shrank a little closer into the friendly shadow of the pulpit, feeling for the moment an odd, nervous fear of encountering his eyes.
But she soon realised that she need not have been alarmed.