Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks.
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