"Oh yes, yes! Some one will hear, or the mist will rise as suddenly as
it fell. It will be only for a short time," returned the Editor
sturdily. "Now look here--the ground is soaking--you can't possibly sit
on it without something underneath. If you could spare your cape it
would serve us both as a rug, and I'm going to wrap you up in my coat."
He loosened his arm, as if to take off the said coat forthwith, but
Margot's fingers tightened their grasp in very determined fashion.
"You are not! I won't wear it. I absolutely refuse to do any such
thing. How can you suggest such a horridly selfish arrangement--I to
wear your coat, while you sit shivering in shirt-sleeves? Never! I'd
rather freeze!"
"Put it the other way. Am I, a man, to hug my coat, and let a girl sit
on the soaking grass? How do you suppose I should feel? I'd rather
freeze, too!"
Margot gave a quavering little laugh.
"It seems to me we have a pretty good chance of doing it--coat or no
coat. If I am a girl, I'm a healthy one, and I must take my chance.
Did you happen to put your newspaper in your pocket this morning? That
would be better than nothing."
"Of course I did! That will do capitally. What a blessing you thought
of it! There! Sit down quickly, and I'll pull a bit down under your
feet. Can't I wrap that cape more tightly round you? And the hood?
Hadn't you better have the hood up?"
"Yes, please! I had forgotten the hood. That will be cosy!"
Margot's cold cheeks flamed with sudden colour as she felt the touch of
careful fingers settling the hood round head and face, and fumbling for
the hook under the chin. At that moment at least cold was not the
predominant sensation! There was a short silence while the Editor
seated himself by her side, and felt in his pockets.
"You won't mind if I smoke?"
"I shall like it, especially if you have fusees. I love the smell of
fusees! You don't ask me to have a cigarette, I notice, and yet it is
fashionable for girls to smoke nowadays. How did you know that I
didn't?"
"I did know! I can hardly tell why, but I am thankful for it, all the
same. I am too old-fashioned to care for smoking women. A girl loses
her charm when she apes a man's habits."
"Yes. I agree. I am sorry I am not a man, but as I'm a girl I prefer
to be a real one, and have my clothes smelling sweet and violety,
instead of like a fusty railway carriage. But men seem to find smoke
soothing at times. I wish I had a feminine equivalent of it just now.
It's a little bit frightening to sit still and stare into this blank
white wall. Couldn't you tell me something interesting to pass the
time?"