pity to throw the thing away, particularly as the rain hasn't got
through it yet."

She yielded, and he held the jacket while she put it on.

"There's another thing," he added. "I'm going to carry you for the next
hundred yards, or possibly farther."

"No," replied Evelyn firmly. "On that point, my determination is as
strong as yours."

Vane made a sign of acquiescence.

"You may have your way for a minute; I expect that will be long enough."

He was correct. Evelyn moved forward a pace or two, and then stopped with
the skirt she had gathered up brushing the quivering emerald moss, and
her boots, which were high ones, hidden in the mire. She had some
difficulty in pulling them out. Then Vane coolly picked her up.

"All you have to do is to keep still for the next few minutes," he
informed her in a most matter-of-fact voice.

Evelyn did not move, though she recognized that had he shown any sign of
self-conscious hesitation she would at once have shaken herself loose. As
it was, the fact that he appeared perfectly at ease and unaware that he
was doing anything unusual was reassuring. Then as he plodded forward she
wondered at his steadiness, for she remembered that when she had once
fallen heavily when nailing up a clematis her father, who was a vigorous
man, had found it difficult to carry her upstairs. Vane had never carried