Bernard Capes, The mill of silence (1896)
“ He punted the boat to a shallow flight of steps, oozy with slime, that led to the bank above, where his cottage was. “We’ll carry the gal to it,” said he. “See if she can move herself.” I bent down over the prostrate figure. It looked curiously youthful and slender in its soaked and clinging garments. “Dolly,” I whispered, “there’s a fire above. Will you let me carry you to it?” I thought my voice might not penetrate to her dulled senses, but to my wonder she put her arms round my neck immediately. “Yes,” she moaned, “I’m so cold. Take me to the warmth or I shall die.” ”
