Later, with his one available arm across her shoulders, he essayed to walk, but it was so ghastly an ordeal that he could accomplish only a few steps at a time.

Anne did not falter now.  She was past that stage.  All her nerves were strung to meet his pressing need.  Again and again as he hung upon her, half-fainting, she stopped to support him more adequately till he had fought down his exhaustion and was ready to struggle on again.  She remained steadfast and resolute throughout the long-drawn-out agony of that walk over the snow.

“Great Heaven!” he muttered once.  “That you should do this—­for me!”

And she answered him quickly and passionately, as though indeed there were something within that spoke for her, “I would do anything for you, Nap.”

It was drawing near to sunset when at last the end of the journey came in sight.  Anne perceived the car waiting in the distance close to the spot where Nap had descended upon her that morning.

She breathed a sigh of thankfulness.  “I scarcely thought he would have waited for you so long,” she said.

“He daren’t do otherwise,” said Nap, and she caught a faint echo of arrogance in the words.

And then of his own free will he paused and faced her.  “You are coming with me,” he said.

She shook her head.  “No, Nap.”

His eyes blazed redly.  His disfigured face was suddenly devilish.  “You are mad if you go back,” he said.

But she shook her head again.  “No, I know what I am doing.  And I am going back now.  But I will come to Baronmead in the morning.”

He looked at her.  “Are you—­tired of life?” he asked abruptly.

She smiled—­a piteous smile.  “Very, very tired!” she said.  “But you needn’t be afraid of that.  He will not touch me.  He will not even see me to-night.”  Then, as he still looked combative, “Oh, please, leave this matter to my judgment!  I know exactly what I am doing.  Believe me, I am in no danger.”

He gave in, seeing that she was not to be moved from her purpose.

They went a few yards farther; then, “In Heaven’s name—­come early to Baronmead,” he said jerkily.  “I shall have no peace till you come.”

“I will,” she promised.

The chauffeur came to meet them with clumsy solicitude as they neared the car, but Nap kept him at a distance.

“Don’t touch me!  I’ve had a bad fall skiing.  It’s torn me to ribbons.  Just open the door.  Lady Carfax will do the rest!” And as the man turned to obey, “Not a very likely story, but it will serve our turn.”

“Thank you,” she said very earnestly.

He did not look at her again.  She had a feeling that he kept his eyes from her by a deliberate effort of the will.

Silently she helped him into the car, saw him sink back with her muff still supporting his injured arm, whispered a low “Good-bye!” and turned to the waiting chauffeur.