“I’m dreadfully sorry to have intruded upon you,” he continued, twirling his cap nervously in his fingers while the breeze played through his upstanding hair.  “I didn’t mean to—­but I couldn’t stand by and let you do it.  I couldn’t, really.”

“Do what?” she asked, still angry.  Septimus did not know that beneath the fur-lined jacket her heart was thumping madly.

“Drown yourself,” said Septimus.

“In the pond?” she laughed hysterically.  “In three feet of water?  How do you think I was going to manage it?”

Septimus reflected.  He had not thought of the pond’s inadequate depth.

“You might have lain down at the bottom until it was all over,” he remarked in perfect seriousness.  “I once heard of a servant girl who drowned herself in a basin of water.”

Emmy turned impatiently and, walking on, waved him away; but he accompanied her mechanically.

“Oh, don’t follow me,” she cried in a queer voice.  “Leave me alone, for God’s sake.  I’m not going to commit suicide.  I wish to heaven I had the pluck.”

“But if you’re not going to do that, why on earth are you here?”

“I’m taking a stroll before breakfast—­just like yourself.  Why am I here?  If you really want to know,” she added defiantly, “I’m going to London—­by the early train from Hensham—­the milk train.  See, I’m respectable.  I have my luggage.”  She swung something in the dark before him and he perceived that it was a handbag.  “Now are you satisfied?  Or do you think I was going to take a handkerchief and a powder puff into the other world with me?  I’m just simply going to London—­nothing more.”

“But it’s a seven-mile walk to Hensham.”

She made no reply, but quickened her pace.  Septimus, in a whirl of doubt and puzzledom, walked by her side, still holding his cap in his hand.  Even the intelligence of the local policeman would have connected her astounding appearance on the common with the announcement in the Globe.  He took that for granted.  But if she were not about to destroy herself, why this untimely flight to London?  Why walk seven miles in wintry darkness when she could have caught a train at Ripstead (a mile away) a few hours later, in orthodox comfort?  It was a mystery, a tragic and perplexing mystery.

They passed by the pond in silence, crossed the common and reached the main road.

“I wish I knew what to do, Emmy,” he said at last.  “I hate forcing my company upon you, and yet I feel I should be doing wrong to leave you unprotected.  You see, I should not be able to face Zora.”

“You had better face her as late as possible,” she replied quickly.  “Perhaps you had better walk to the station with me.  Would you?”

“It would ease my mind.”

“All right.  Only, for God’s sake, don’t chatter.  I don’t want you of all people to get on my nerves.”

“Let me carry your bag,” said Septimus, “and you had better have my stick.”