She was pierced with cold, choked with the poisonous air, and had derived very little satisfaction from her visit to Faversham.
'What happened ?' was her first question, as Rhoda came out into the hall with sympathy and solicitude.

'Did the fog keep our guest away ?' 'No; he dined here.' 'It was just as well.

You haven't been lonely.' They spoke no more on the subject until Miss Barfoot recovered from her discomfort, and was enjoying a much needed supper.
'Did he offer to go away ?' 'It was really impossible.

It took him more than half an hour to get here from Sloane Square.' 'Foolish fellow! Why didn't he take a train back at once ?' There was a peculiar brightness in Rhoda's countenance, and Miss Barfoot had observed it from the first.
'Did you quarrel much ?' 'Not more than was to be expected.' 'He didn't think of staying for my return ?' 'He left about ten o'clock.' 'Of course.

Quite late enough, under the circumstances.