"I wish you could give me work," said Gentian, turning a face that was a mixture of wistfulness and mischief up to his. "I shall soon be unemployed again, I feel it in my bones. And I am not a very satisfactory companion to an indoors lady. Fancy! The other day I was saying how much I should love to hunt next winter, and Miss Horatia laughed and didn't seem against the idea, when Miss Anne drew herself up as if I had quite shocked her,— "'That is hardly one of the duties of a lady's companion,' she said. "So I was angry, of course, and I said quickly: 'I am only a temporary companion. I may end it any day,' "And then Miss Anne said very sweetly: 'I think it would be your loss, if you did so.' "Now do you think that quite nice of her? She tries to keep me in my place; but somehow bubble up away from it—and any day may bring a crisis." "I agree with Miss Anne," said Thorold gravely; "that it will be your loss if you lose such a comfortable home." "Now, Cousin Thor, do you think it is a home to me? How can it be? I have lost my home, and I have lost the love and care that went with it. I am hedged about with convention and duties and restrictions. I must be punctual and tidy and meek, and always must be at the beck and call of a very kind mistress certainly, but a very old-fashioned, punctilious lady." "Do you want to go through life only pleasing yourself, and satisfying your own desires?" "Now you're getting into the stern old martinet you were when I first knew you! You have been much kinder lately. I don't always want to please myself. There are some people that I would like to do anything for—I think I might be willing to die for them!" Thorold's eyes twinkled as he looked at her. "We'll hope that won't be necessary at your time of life," he said. She was standing very close to him as she spoke; now she moved away with a dignified air. "You like to laugh at me," she said. "You never take me in earnest, you treat me like a child, and now Waddy has left me I feel a hundred years old, as if my whole future life is my own responsibility, and I get frightened. I have no money at my back, and very few friends. I don't think you or Mrs. Wharnecliffe would let me starve, but then if I went away from you, you might not know. I sometimes wonder if I could earn my living in London by my music. I'll talk to Jim Paget about it when he comes over. He knows a lot of people in London." Thorold's brows grew rather threatening. "No," he said quickly; "don't do that. When you feel you must have a change of employment, tell me. I promise I will help you."