"'This settles it,' I said in a low tone as we waited for the carriage. 'You must come with me. On the _Manola_ you will be safe.' In those days, of course, even the shabby old Red Ensign was an inviolable sanctuary. She nodded without speaking. Indeed she did not speak for some time after we had quitted the tortuous streets of the village and were entering upon the open plain, merely regarding me in an earnest abstracted fashion, so that I was moved to ask the reason. For she had the air of one pondering upon a course of action already decided, trying to see where it would lead. "'I was thinking,' she said, 'that it is funny you should be here, after all this time, and free to do--what you are doing. Most men, you know....' and she stopped. "'Most men what?' I demanded. "'Oh, there's generally someone they like at home, even if they aren't married. You aren't, are you?' "It wasn't a rude or a cruel question as she put it to me. It was, on the other hand, shockingly pathetic, and humble. It registered the frightful defencelessness of her position at last. It went to my heart. It moved me so profoundly that I could think of nothing adequate to reply, and she stared into my eyes in the gathering evening twilight, her own eyes extremely bright and feverish, like distant storm signals. "'Why torture yourself like this?' I asked at length. 'I happen to be that very common person, a man without ties.' "'I'm not sure that that would be a recommendation to most girls,' she reflected, audibly, 'because they think people without ties aren't likely to contract any. But that isn't what I meant. When I was on the _Manola_, coming out to Ipsilon, I got it fixed in my head you were a widower. You know,' she went on, 'you never did talk about yourself, always about me; and I wondered and wondered and finally decided that you'd had a loss and didn't want to talk about it. And that made me sorry for you. And then you remember, up on the cliff you made me promise to let you help me, and you seemed so _experienced_ ... well, when I was at that school you know, and we used to talk in the dormitory about the sort of men we wanted to marry, I used to say--'a widower, because.' And once a big lump of a girl who was always passing exams said: 'you mean because he has lived with a woman before,' and I said, 'a man didn't have to be married for that.' It got to the mistresses' ears and I was nearly expelled.' "She stopped, and I said 'Go on!' "'Oh, I'll go on,' she said with a laugh, looking up at Pollyni, who was sitting beside the driver and explaining something involving a great deal of gesture. 'I can't say I was ever happy at school, but at any rate I must have done pretty well, because I was always sorry to go away.' "'And where did you go?' I enquired.