A long shiver passed through her body, and she turned round, her arms hanging limp by her sides.

“I’d⁠ ⁠… rather go⁠ ⁠… myself,” she said, in a low, heavy tone. “Go⁠ ⁠… myself,” she repeated.

With stiff, leaden movements, after that, she went into her own room and came back in her loose winter coat and woollen cap.

“O Chris!” he cried, as he saw her there, hovering in the doorway; “O little Chris!”

But she made a movement with her hands, as he approached her, that was almost peevish⁠—the sort of movement with which a little girl beats down the jumping and barking of an excited dog.