Let me carry some shawls.

Marsworth, lend a hand.' Soon they were all scattered along the edge of the Lake.

Hester Martin had relieved Marsworth of Bridget; Farrell had found a dry rock, and spread a shawl upon it for Nelly's benefit.

Marsworth and Cicely had no choice but to pair; and she, with a grey hat and plume half a yard high, preposterously short skirts, and high-heeled boots buttoned to the knee, condescended to stroll beside him, watching his grave embarrassed look with an air of detachment as dramatically complete as she could make it.
* * * * * 'You look awfully tired!' said Farrell to his companion, eyeing her with most sincere concern.

'I wonder what you've been doing to yourself.' 'I'm all right,' she said with emphasis.