He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. ‘Don’t tell me. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. You can come back for these, for you’ll carry him to the gatehouse, that’s what you’ll do. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. For a time they walked in silence. The challenge gave her courage. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do.
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