clung to his arm. "No one has come? We are still alone?"
"No," he answered her gently, "no one has come. We are still alone."
VIII
"What time is it?" she asked.
He looked at his watch. "Half-past two."
"We have missed that train now."
"I don't know. And anyway there's probably another."
"And David?"
"He's lost his way in the fog. He'll turn up at any moment." He stood up and shouted once again:
"Dunbar! Dunbar! Dunbar!"
No answer.
He stood over her looking down at her as she sat with drooping head. She looked up at him. "I'm ashamed at the way I've behaved," she said, "fainting and crying. But you needn't be afraid any more. I shan't give in again."
Indeed, he seemed to see in her altogether a new spirit, something finer and more secure. She put out her hand to him.
"Come and sit down on the stone again as we were before. It's better for us to talk and then we don't frighten ourselves with possibilities. After all, we can't do anything, can we, so long as this
