"I really _can't!_" she repeated, gravely, releasing her hands. Winnington rose, and began to pace the drawing room. Delia watched him--quivering--an exquisite vision herself, in the half lights of the room. When he paused at last to speak, she saw a new expression in his eyes. "I shall have to think this over, Miss Blanchflower--perhaps to reconsider my whole position." She was startled, but she kept her composure. "You mean--you may have--after all--to give me up?" He forced a very chilly smile. "You remember--you asked me to give you up. Now if it were only one subject--however important--on which we disagreed, I might still do my best, though the responsibility of all you make me connive at is certainly heavy. But if you are entirely to set at defiance not only my advice and wishes as to this illegal society to which you belong, and as to the violent action into which I understand you may be led when you go to town, but also in such a matter as we have just been discussing--then indeed, I see no place for me. I must think it over. A guardian appointed by the Court might be more effective--might influence you more." "I told you I was a handful," said Delia, trying to laugh. But her voice sounded hollow in her own ears. He offered no reply--merely repeating "I must think it over!"--and resolutely changing the subject, he made a little perfunctory conversation on a few matters of business--and was gone. After his departure, Delia sat motionless for half an hour at least, staring at the fire. Then suddenly she sprang up, went to the writing-table, and sat down to write-- "Dear Mr. Mark--Don't give me up! You don't know. Trust me a little! I am not such a fiend as you think. I am grateful--I am indeed. I wish to goodness I could show it. Perhaps I shall some day. I hadn't time to tell you about poor Weston--who's to have an operation--and that I'm not going to town with Gertrude--not for some weeks at any rate. I shall be alone here, looking after Weston. So I can't disgrace or worry you for a good while any way. And you needn't fret about Mr. Lathrop--you needn't _really_! I can't explain--not just yet--but it's all right. Mayn't I come and help with some of your cripple children? or the school? or something? If Susy Amberly can do it, I suppose I can--I'd like to. May I sign myself--though I _am_ a handful-" "Yours affectionately, DELIA BLANCHFLOWER." She sat staring at the paper, trembling under a stress of feeling she could not understand--the large tears in her eyes. Chapter XIII "Pack the papers as quickly as you can--I am going to town this afternoon. Whatever can't be packed before then, you can bring up to me tomorrow." A tired girl lifted her head from the packing-case before which she was kneeling.