He looked up at Lucilla for the first time.
"You are right," he answered.

"Take her home." He repeated the sign by which he had already hinted to me to be silent--and joined Oscar at the wall in front of the house.
"Has he gone ?" she asked.
"He has gone." The moisture stood thick on her forehead.

I passed my handkerchief over her face, and turned her towards the wind.
"Are you better now ?" "Yes." "Can you walk home ?" "Easily." I put her arm in mine.

After advancing with me a few steps, she suddenly stopped--with a blind apprehension, as it seemed, of something in front of her.

She lifted her little walking-cane, and moved it slowly backwards and forwards in the empty air, with the action of some one who is clearing away an encumbrance to a free advance--say the action of a person walking in a thick wood, and pushing aside the lower twigs and branches that intercept the way.
"What are you about ?" I asked.
"Clearing the air," she answered.