"You are not going out in such weather?" demanded Peter.
"Yes. I've had no exercise to-day, and I'm going for a walk."
"It's pouring torrents," expostulated Peter.
"I know it."
"But you'll get wet through."
"I hope so. I like to walk in the rain."
Peter put his hand on the front door-handle, to which this conversation
had carried them, "You mustn't go out," he said.
"I'm going," said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it was
forbidden.
"Please don't," said Peter weakening.
"Let me pass," said Leonore decisively.
"Does your father know?"
"Of course not."
"Then you should ask him. It's no weather for you to walk in."
"I shan't ask him."
"Then I shall," and Peter went hurriedly to the library.
"Watts," he said, "it's raining torrents and Leonore insists on going to
walk. Please say she is not to go."
"All right," said Watts, not looking up from his book.
That was enough. Peter sped back to the hall. It was empty. He put his
head into the two rooms.
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