The great figure of the policeman, suspicious, was descending from the promenade discreetly towards them. To avoid any encounter with him Hilda guided her companion towards the pier, and they sheltered there under the resounding floor of the pier. By the light of one of the lower lamps Hilda could now clearly see Sarah Gailey's face. It showed no sign of terror. It was calm enough in its worn, resigned woe. It had the girlish look again, beneath the marks of age. Hilda could distinguish the young girl that Sarah had once been. "Come home, will you?" she entreated. Sarah Gailey sighed terribly. "I give it up," she said, with weariness. "I could never do it! I could never do it--now!" Hilda pulled gently at her unwilling arm. She could not speak. She could not ask her again: "What's the matter?" "It isn't that the house is too large," Sarah Gailey went on half meditatively; "though just think of all those stairs, and not a tap on any of the upper floors! No! And it isn't that I'm not ready enough to oblige him. No! I know as well as anybody there's only him between me and starvation. No! It isn't that he doesn't consider me! No! But when he goes and settles behind my back with those Boutwoods--" She began to weep. "And when I can hear you and him discussing me in the next room, and plotting against me--it's--it's more--" The tears gradually drowned her voice, and she ceased. "I assure you, you're quite mistaken," Hilda burst out, with passionate and indignant persuasiveness. "We never mentioned you. He wanted to talk to me about my money. And if you feel like that over the Boutwoods, I'm certain he'll tell them they mustn't come." Sarah Gailey shook her head blankly. "I'm certain he will!" Hilda persisted. "Please--" The other began to walk away, dragging Hilda with her. The policeman, inspecting them from a distance, coughed and withdrew. They climbed a flight of steps on the far side of the pier, crossed the promenade, and went up Preston Street in silence. "I should prefer not to be seen going in with you," said Sarah Gailey suddenly. "It might--" she freed her arm. "Go down the area steps," said Hilda, "and I'll wait a moment and then go in at the front door." Sarah Gailey hurried forward alone. Hilda, watching her, and observing the wet footmarks which she left on the pavement, was appalled by the sense of her own responsibility as to the future of Sarah Gailey. Till this hour, even at her most conscientious, she had under-estimated the seriousness of Sarah Gailey's case. Everybody had under-estimated the seriousness of Sarah Gailey's case. She became aware of some one hurrying cautiously up the street on the other side. It was George Cannon. As soon as Sarah had disappeared within the house he crossed over. "What's the matter?" he inquired anxiously. "Well--" "She hasn't been trying to drown herself, has she?" Hilda nodded, and, speechless, moved towards the house. He turned abruptly away.