“You’re determined to see it in its blackest light,” said Lovel, but he spoke good-humouredly, without losing his patience. “Well, it isn’t of me or my baby you think, when you sit silent by the hour, is it?” said Daisy, suddenly losing her temper, pulling herself up with the help of the table, and wandering aimlessly around. “’Tisn’t your baby, so why should you think of it? and if I come to die, well, good riddance for you, and you’ll be able to think you did your duty by me. But much you care now, when you go out into the snow like the crazed gipsy you are,--to meet Miss Warrener, Mrs. Calladine, for all I know,--much you care that I sit at home and think myself sick over the danger I’ll run and the pain I’ll suffer, while you maybe won’t come near home till it’s all over one way or the other.” “When the time gets near I’ll stop closer to home.” She wanted to cry out, “You dolt, you blockhead, the time is near _now_,” but dared only repeat “One doesn’t always know ...” and began to whimper. “I won’t go far afield,” said Lovel, soothing her. He was full of pity for all women in her condition, so that none of her words had power to anger him. A small remorse came over her when he was kind like this, a compunction for having tricked him: would he have been so kind, so long-suffering about the child had he not believed without question in his own brother’s guilt? She tried to edge closer to him; “Nicholas, if anything happened to me, you wouldn’t think too hardly of me, would you?” “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” said Lovel, weary of the discussion, but still patient and kind. “You won’t go far, Nicco, will you?” “No, if that comforts you.” He was committed now, having given his promise; there would be no more roamings for him; but he was willing to forgo their small solace, negligible in the midst of his desolation, if thereby he might reassure the poor contemptible creature. “Nicco,” she said timidly, with an impulse of honesty, prompted by his gentleness, “’tisn’t fair to ask you, hardly ... ’tisn’t your child, after all’s said and done.” “I’m responsible for my brother,” said Lovel, and she turned away from him and wept, overcome. “You’re an upright man, Lovel,” she cried through her tears, “too upright for such as me.”