There was blood trickling down his face from the wound in the forehead, and he was limping slightly.
"Mr.Lessingham!" she called out, as he reached the topmost step.
He took an eager step towards her.
"Philippa!" he exclaimed.

"Why, what are you doing here ?" "I was frightened," she faltered.

"Are you hurt ?" "Not in the least," he assured her.

"We had a rough sail home, that's all, and that fellow Oates drank himself half unconscious.

Come along, let me help you up the steps and out of this." She clung to his arm, and they struggled up the private path to the house.