They spoke little after that until they reached the station for Abington. If he said anything she replied to it, and sometimes she made a remark herself. But there was never anything like conversation between them. He was in deep trouble about her all the time, and could never afterwards look out on certain landmarks of that journey without inwardly flinching. He would not try to comfort her again. He knew that was beyond his power. She must get used to it first; and nobody could help her. And he would not bother her by talking; just a few words now and then were as necessary to her as to him. Only Caroline had come to meet them. Beatrix clung to her a little as she kissed her, but that was all the sign she made, and she exerted herself a little more than she had done to talk naturally, until they reached home. Barbara and Bunting were in front of the house as they came up. After a sharp glance at her and their father, they greeted her with the usual affection that this family habitually showed to one another, and both said that they were glad to see her home again, as if they meant it. Miss Waterhouse was behind them, and said: "You look pale, B darling. Hadn't you better go straight to your room and lie down?" She went upstairs with her. Barbara and Bunting, with a glance at one another, took themselves off. Caroline followed her father into the library. "It's all over," he said shortly. "I saw him this morning. He's what I thought he was. She's well rid of him, poor child. But, of course, she's taking it very hard. You must look after her, darling. I can't do anything for her yet. She's closed up against me." "Poor old Daddy," said Caroline, feeling in her sensitive fibre the hurt in him. "Was it very difficult for you?" "It wasn't difficult to get rid of him," he said. "I didn't have to. He retired of his own accord. Whether he'll think better of his offence and try to come back again I don't know. But my mind's quite made up about him. However she feels about it I'm not going to give her to a man like that. She'll thank me for it by and by. Or if she doesn't I can't help it. I'm not going through this for my own sake." She asked him a few questions as to how Beatrix had carried herself, and then she went up to her. Beatrix was undressing, and crying softly. She had sent Miss Waterhouse away, saying that she was coming down to dinner, and it was time to dress. But when she had left her she had broken down, and decided to go to bed. She threw herself into Caroline's arms, and cried as if her heart would break. Caroline said nothing until the storm had subsided a little, which it did very soon. "I can't help crying--just once," she said. "But I'm not going to let myself be like that. Why does he make me so unhappy? I thought he loved me."