"But perhaps, as I'm so warm--give me your handkerchief.

There, just in front." He slipped the corners carefully under her shoulder-straps.
"There, that will do.

It looks like a bib." She pushed his hand away quickly and stood looking out into the deserted square.

"Isn't London a tomb on Sunday night ?" Alexander caught the agitation in her voice.

He stood a little behind her, and tried to steady himself as he said: "It's soft and misty.