d she'd sampled the sofa here,--' he pointed to an ancient one in
a corner--'and it would disgrace a dug-out. It's her affair--don't blame
me!'

Nelly looked bewildered.

'But I'm not ill now. I'm getting well.'

'If you only knew what a ghost you look still,' he said vehemently,
'you'd let Cicely have her little plot. This used to stand in my
mother's sitting-room. It was bought for her. Cicely had it put to
rights.'

As he spoke, he made a hasty mental note that Cicely would have to be
coached in her part.

Nelly examined the object. It was a luxurious adjustable couch, covered
in flowery chintz, with a reading-desk, and well supplied with the
softest cushions.

She laughed, but there was rather a flutter in her laugh.

'It's awfully kind of Cicely. But you know--'

Her eyes turned on Farrell with a sudden insistence. Hester had just
left the room, and her distant voice--with other voices--could be heard
in the garden.

'--You know you mustn't--all of you--spoil me so, any more. I've got my
life to face. You mean it so kindly--but--'

She sank into a chair by the window that Farrell had placed for her, and
her aspect struck him painfully. There was so much weakness in it; and
yet a touch of fierceness.

'I've got my life to face,' she repeated--'and you mustn't, Sir
William--you _mustn't_ let me get too dependent on you--and Cicely--and
Hester. Be my friend--my true friend--and help me--'

She bent forward, and her pale lips just breathed the rest--

'Help me--_to endure hardness_! That's what I want--for George's
sake--and my own. I must find some work to do. In a few months perhaps I
might be able to teach--but there are plenty of things I could do now. I
want to be just--neglected a little--treated as a normal person!'

She smiled faintly at him as he stood beside her. He felt himself
rebuked--abashed--as though he had been in some sort an intruder on her
spiritual freedom; had tried to purchase her dependence by a kindness
she did not want. That was not in her mind, he knew. But it was in
Hester's. And there was not wanting a certain guilty consciousness in
his own.

But he threw it off. Absurdity! She _did_ need his friendship; and he
had done what he had done without the shadow of a corrupt motive--_en
tout bien, tout honneur_.

It was intolerable to him to think of her as poor and resourceless--left
to that disagreeable sister and her own melancholy thoughts. Still the
first need of all wa