blanket, striped with scarlet and yellow. She stood stock still. He shone the light on her. She was very pale, and trembling fitfully.
“Are you that cold?” he asked in concern. “Take your jacket off, and your hat, and put this right over you.”
Mechanically, she undid the enormous fawn-coloured buttons, and unpinned her hat. With her black hair drawn back from her low, honest brow, she looked little more than a girl, like a girl driven hard with womanhood by stress of life. She was small, and natty, with neat little features. But she shivered convulsively.
“Is something a-matter with you?” he asked.
“I’ve walked to Bulwell and back,” she quivered, “looking for him —