At lunch-time Caroline found herself seated next to him. Betty was on his other side. "Look after Miss Graniger, please, Rupert," Mrs. Brenton had said to him, and he took up the duty in a literal sense. "This is a typical English Christmas dinner," he said to her once. He tried to make her smile and talk, but Caroline had no command of words. She felt dazed with the myriad sensations that encircled her about. When the plum-pudding, all afire, was brought in with cheers, and every one stood up to sing "Should auld acquaintance be forgot," Caroline broke down for a moment. But only Haverford knew this. Almost at once she had conquered herself, and as he asked her to clink glasses with him she smiled. Her face moved him sharply; it was quivering with emotion; her eyes were most beautiful. She had lost her white, careworn look, and though she was still thin there was a pinkish glow in her skin; no one would have called her plain in this moment. "Suppose you change places with me," he said; "Betty wants to have you near her." They effected the change quite quietly, and with the need of looking after the child, that oppression of emotion slipped gradually away from the girl's heart. Long afterwards, when all that was new and strange had grown into a calm and natural background, Caroline remembered that Christmas luncheon at Yelverton as one of the pleasantest experiences ever granted to her. Mrs. Lancing ate nothing, but she did her best to be bright; that she was suffering all the time was, however, clear to both Caroline and Haverford. It was a long time before she could escape from the festivities, but when everybody had trooped to the Christmas tree, she managed to slip away, and she drew Caroline aside with her. "Come and help me," she said. "This is one of Dennis's rare holidays, and I don't believe I can get upstairs by myself." It was on Caroline's lips to ask if she should call Mr. Haverford; but glancing back, she saw that he had been summoned by Mrs. Brenton to officiate at the huge tree, so they passed out together. "It is a shame to bother you," said Camilla when she got up to her room. She was trembling as with cold, and her brows and eyes were contracted with the sharpness of the pain. "You know I am glad to come," said Caroline in her quietest way. "I know you are very comforting; just the sort of person one wants about one when one is ill. Don't go away for a little while." Caroline made up the fire, and then sat down in an armchair beside it, just as she had sat on another memorable occasion. She looked ever and again at Mrs. Lancing, who had crouched on the sofa, both her hands pressed to her head. In a little while the tension seemed to relax, and Camilla opened her eyes. "Has Rupert told you your own story?" she asked. "A little bit; not all." "He says it is my duty to let you leave me if you want to go," said Camilla, after another little pause. Caroline looked at her with a little start.