"Well, there _is_ one thing."

He looked up quickly. If ever terror flashed in a man's eyes, she saw it
then in his. Her heart sank, but her mind worked none the less well.

"It's this," she went on smoothly. "There's a lodge, a sort of
tool-house, only about half a mile down the road. Couldn't you take a
lantern, couldn't you possibly spend the night there?"

"It isn't by any chance," he said, "that you're afraid of having me
here?"

"Oh, no, not you," she answered. "No, I should feel much safer with you
here than there." (If he went her case was ruined, and she was now
actually afraid perhaps he would go.) "I should be terrified in this
great place all by myself. Still, I think you ought to go. It's not so
very far. You go down the road a little way and then turn to the right
through the woods. I think you'll find it. The roof used to leak a
little, but I dare say you won't mind that. There isn't any fireplace,
but you could take lots of blankets--"

"I tell you what I'll do," he said. "No one will come to rescue us
to-night. I'll sleep here to-night, and to-morrow as soon as it's light,
I'll go to this cottage, and when they come, you can tell them any story
you please. Will that do?"

It did perfectly. "Oh, thank you," she said. "How kind you are! And you
do forgive me, don't you?"