"Well," I said, "I see nothing for it but that you should accept my hospitality. I have a spare bedroom in my chambers at the Temple, Will you let me put you up?"
She shivered, wrung her hands, and her eyes filled with a horrified dread.
"I suppose it must be that," she said huskily, "since I won't drown myself. And I won't—I won't!"
It seemed a strange way of accepting a well-meant offer of hospitality; but I said, "Good, come along."
It was past the hour of trams and omnibuses, and we had something of a walk before us. When I found that she did not walk very steadily, I gave her my arm, and helped her along. Fortunately, though now and again there was a sharp patter of rain, it was not enough to wet us much. I did not bother her with talk; once or twice I said an encouraging word. The stretch from Westminster Bridge to the Temple was the most difficult, and we went very slowly. I put my arm round her and helped her along. Three steps up my stairs she clutched at me to prevent herself from falling. I picked her up and carried her to the top.
I opened the door of my rooms, helped her into them, and set her in an easy chair. Then I made haste to get her food. Fortunately, there was a
