She
had been able to manage him then. Would she be able to manage him now?

After dinner he grew very restless. His eyes wandered to the door, then
to his watch, then to his companions; he smiled uneasily, pulling his
moustache; then--jumping to his feet, tried to speak with an easy
self-confidence.

"I must leave you for a quarter of an hour ... A matter of business,
only in this hotel. Downstairs. Yes. A friend of mine and a little
matter. Urgent. I'm sure you'll forgive me."

For a moment Maggie was frightened. She was here in a strange hotel in
a strange room with a man whom she scarcely knew. Then she looked up
into young Warlock's face and was reassured. She could trust him.

He stood with his arm on the shabby, dusty mantelpiece, looking down
upon her with his good-natured kindly smile, so kindly that she felt
that he was younger than she and needed protection in a world that was
filled with designing Uncle Mathews and mysterious Aunt Annes and
horrible Miss Warlocks.

He, on his side, as he looked down at her, was surprised at his own
excitement. His heart was beating, his hand trembling--before this
plain, ordinary, unattractive girl! Unattractive physically--but not
uninteresting. One of the most interesting human beings whom he had
ever met, simply because she was utterly unlike any one else. He felt
shame before her, because he knew that she would believe every word
that he said. In that she was simple, but "he would be bothered if she
was simple in anything else." She had made up her mind--he knew it as
well as though she had told him--to trust him absolutely, and he knew
well enough how little he was to be trusted. And because of that faith
and because of that trust he felt that she was more reliable than he
could have believed that changing fickle human being would ever be. How
secure he might feel with her!

Then, as he thought that, he realised how troubled he was about his
life at home during the last weeks. Amy hated him, his mother hid
herself from him, and his father's love frightened him. Already he had
found himself telling lies to avoid the chapel services and the
meetings with Thurston and the rest. His father's love for him had
something terrible in it, and, although he returned it, he could not
live up to that fire and heat.

No; he saw that he would not be able to remain for long at home. On the
other hand, go back to the old wandering life he would not. He had had
enough of that and