She showed signs of recovering herself. With a little shrug of the
shoulders she turned towards the door which led into an inner room.

"Let me get you some tea, Philip," she begged. "You look so cold and
wet."

"Stay here, please," he insisted.

She paused reluctantly. There was a curious lack of anything peremptory
in his manner, yet somehow, although she would have given the world
to have passed for a few moments into the shelter of the little kitchen
beyond, she was impelled to do as he bade her.

"Don't be silly, Philip," she said petulantly. "You know you want some
tea, and so do I. Sit down, please, and make yourself comfortable. Why
didn't you let me know you were coming?"

"Perhaps it would have been better," he agreed quietly. "However, since I
am here, answer my question."

She drew a little breath. After all, although she was lacking in any real
strength of character, she was filled with a certain compensatory
doggedness. His challenge was there to be faced. There was no way out of
it. She would have lied willingly enough but for the sheer futility of
falsehood. She commenced the task of bracing herself for the struggle.

"You had better," she said, "frame your question a little more exactly. I
will then try to answer it."