"Miss Aked says she cannot thank you enough. She will leave everything to you,--everything. She is very much obliged indeed. She doesn't think Mrs. Hopkins will be able to travel, because of her rheumatism, and there is no one else. Here is the key of Mr. Aked's desk, and some other keys--there should be about £20 in gold in the cash box, and perhaps some notes." He took the keys, feeling profoundly happy. "I shall just go up to the office first," he decided, "and arrange to get off, and then come down here again. I suppose you will stay on till Miss Aked is better?" "Oh, of course." "She will be in bed several days yet?" "Probably. She might be able to sit up an hour or two the day after to-morrow--in her own room." "It wouldn't do for me to see her?" "I think not. She is very weak. No, you must act on your own responsibility." He and the nurse had breakfast together, talking with the freedom of old friends. He told her all he knew of the Akeds, not forgetting to mention that Mr. Aked and himself were to have collaborated in a book. When Richard let this out, she showed none of those signs of timid reverence which the laity are wont to exhibit in the presence of literary people. "Indeed!" she said politely, and then after a little pause: "I actually write verses myself sometimes." "You do? And are they published?" "Oh, yes, but perhaps not on their merits. You see, my father has influence--" "A journalist, is he, perhaps?" She laughed at the idea, and mentioned the name of a well-known novelist. "And you prefer nursing to writing!" Richard ejaculated when he had recovered from the announcement. "To anything in the world. That is why I am a nurse. Why should I depend on my father, or my father's reputation?" "I admire you for not doing so," Richard replied. Hitherto he had only read about such women, and had questioned if they really existed. He grew humble before her, recognising a stronger spirit. Yet her self-reliance somehow chafed him, and he directed his thoughts to Adeline's feminine trustfulness with a slight sense of relief. * * * * * The funeral took place on Sunday. Richard found the formalities to be fewer and simpler than he had expected, and no difficulties arose of any kind. Mrs. Hopkins, as Adeline had foreseen, was unable to come, but she sent a long letter full of advice, and offering her niece a temporary home. Adeline had not yet been allowed to leave her bed, but on the Sunday morning the nurse had said that she might sit up for an hour or two in the afternoon, and would like to see Richard then. He returned to Carteret Street on foot when the funeral was over. "You are glad it is all finished?" the nurse said.