Charlie had turned, with some note of surprise in his tones, to greet the girl; for this was the first time she had been to his rooms for some three months. With something of his old cheery manner he welcomed her, and set a chair for her near the fire. She moved across to it, but did not sit down; instead, she leaned upon the back of it, and looked steadily into the flames, as though debating in what form of words she should say what was in her mind. "Why, my dear girl--it's an age since you've honoured me with a visit," he said. "And how solemn you look; quite tragic." He made a movement towards her, as though he would have dropped an arm about her shoulders; saw the eyes that were turned upon him, and recoiled. For the eyes were swimming in tears, and there was in them such an agony of despair and misery that it struck him dumb. He stood looking at her for a moment or two with a dropped jaw. "Why, old girl," he blurted out at last, "what's wrong? Why do you look at me like that?" "Charlie--don't you--don't you know?" It was a mere whisper, but he heard it, and partly understood, even while he told himself in his heart that he would not understand and would not believe. As he moved towards her she dropped her head on the back of the chair, and he heard the sobbing cry that broke from her. "Dear God!--what shall I do?" He stood for a moment like one stunned; then he took her roughly by the shoulders and twisted her round. She hid her face, and while he strove to drag her hands away he spoke brutally, because of his own terror. "You're wrong--you don't know what you're talking about. Come now--look at me--speak to me--tell me." She murmured behind her hands; he bent his head to listen. Then he got away from her and walked across to the fireplace, and stood there, beating his foot impatiently on the floor and biting his lips. Presently he came back to her and laid his hand on her shoulder, and spoke steadily: "Now, look here--don't be silly--and don't give way. It'll be all right; you can take that from me, now, Moira; it'll be all right. You may be mistaken; I don't know anything about that; but in any case, it'll be all right. Do you understand?" She shook her head in a dull, feeble sort of way, and he took her in his arms and soothed her, and kissed away her tears. Over and over again he impressed that upon her; it would be all right. "Money or no money, we'll get married; it's only a little earlier than I meant--and no one can say a word against you then. I'm not a blackguard; I'll do the right thing. I'll get money from somewhere--from my father, if necessary; and I'll make him give me something to do--work of some sort." "Soon?" she whispered.