u
unprotected. You see, I should not be able to face Zora."

"You had better face her as late as possible," she replied quickly.
"Perhaps you had better walk to the station with me. Would you?"

"It would ease my mind."

"All right. Only, for God's sake, don't chatter. I don't want you of all
people to get on my nerves."

"Let me carry your bag," said Septimus, "and you had better have my
stick."

The process of transference brought to his consciousness the fact of his
bareheadedness. He put on his cap and they trudged along the road like
gipsy man and wife, saying not a word to each other. For two miles they
proceeded thus, sometimes in utter blackness when the road wound between
thick oak plantations, sometimes in the lesser dimness of the open when it
passed by the rolling fields; and not a sign of human life disturbed the
country stillness. Then they turned into the London road and passed through
a village. Lights were in the windows. One cottage door stood open. A shaft
of light streamed across Emmy's face, and Septimus caught a glimpse of
drawn and haggard misery. They went on for another mile. Now and then a
laborer passed them with an unsurprised greeting. A milkcart rattled by and
then all was silence again. Gradually the stars lost brilliance.

All of a sudden, at the foot of a rise crowned by a cottage looming black
against the sky, Emmy broke down and cast herself on a heap of stones by
the side of the road, a helpless bundle of sobs and incoherent
lamentations. She could bear it no longer. Why had he not spoken to her?
She could go no further. She wished she were dead. What was going to become
of her? How could he walk by her side saying nothing, like a dumb jailer?
He had better go back to Nunsmere and leave her to die by the wayside. It
was all she asked of Heaven.

"Oh, God have pity on me," she moaned, and rocked herself to and fro.

Septimus stood for a time tongue-tied in acute distress. This was his first
adventure in knight-errantry and he had served before neither as page nor
squire. He would have given his head to say the unknown words that might
comfort her. All he could do was to pat her on the shoulder in a futile way
and bid her not to cry, which, as all the world knows, is the greatest
encouragement to further shedding of tears a weeping woman can have. Emmy
sobbed more bitterly than ever. Once more on that night of agonizing
dubiety, what was to be done? He looked round desperately f