She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. It's of no use.
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