She couldn't bear sitting in a car.

She'd wait on the steps.
"But I scarcely like to leave you," I murmured.

"I'd very much rather not leave you here." At that she threw back her coat; she turned and faced me; her lips parted.

"Good heavens--why! I--I don't mind it a bit.

I--I like waiting." And suddenly her cheeks crimsoned, her eyes grew dark--for a moment I thought she was going to cry.