He was gently bathing her torn
feet with his hands.
XII
THE KNIGHT ERRANT PLAYS THE GAME
She began to command herself at last, and to be inexpressibly ashamed of
her weakness. She sat in silence, accepting his ministrations, till
Rivington proceeded to tear his handkerchief into strips for bandaging
purposes; then she put out a protesting hand.
"You--you shouldn't!" she said rather tremulously.
He looked at her with his kindly smile.
"It's all right, Chirpy. I've got another."
She tried to laugh. It was a valiant effort.
"I know I'm a horrid nuisance to you. It's nice of you to pretend you
don't mind."
"I never pretend," said Rivington, with a touch of grimness. "Do you
think you will be able to get your stocking over that?"
"I think so."
"Try!" he said.
She tried and succeeded.
"That's better," said Rivington. "Now for the shoes. I can put them on."
"I don't like you to," she murmured.
"Knights errant always do that," he assured her. "It's part of the game.
Come! That's splendid! How does it feel?"
"I think I can bear it," she said, under her breath.
He drew it instantly off again.
"No, you can't. Or, at least, you are not going to. Look here, Chirpy,
my dear, I think you must let me carry you, anyhow to the caravan. It
isn't far, and I can fetch you some slippers from the mill from there.
What? You don't mind, do you? An old friend like me, and a poor relation
into the bargain?" The blue eyes smiled at her quizzically, and very
persuasively.
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