Explore "The White Glove" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Madeline's anger and indignation kept her warm for the time. She toiled on up the slope, past the familiar sign-post, whilst the rain steadily increased, and the wind grew to a gale. It became so bad presently that Madeline decided to stop somewhere for the night. She was pretty certain to lose her way again, and already she bitterly regretted her adventure.
It was just possible that Clifford might sleep till the morning without missing her. At any rate she could not get back tonight.