She got out of bed softly at last, petulantly displeased with herself for this sudden change in her habits, and went to the window and looked out. It was a clear night, with stars showing, and a mere ghost of a wind rustling the trees; Mrs. Baffall shivered a little, and made a movement to go back to bed. But as she turned, she glanced again through the window, and stopped. For the tall figure of a man was pacing up and down in the road outside, not a dozen yards from where she stood. And the man had on his head a flapping soft hat, such as was worn by Paul Nannock. To tell the sober truth, Mrs. Baffall was a little frightened. Perhaps because the half-waking dream of him had brought him so strongly into her memory--perhaps because it seemed so strange that he should be pacing up and down like this, when she had thought of him secure in his own house. She stood for a moment, with nervous fingers at her lips, looking at her sleeping husband, and wondering what she should do. Still watching Baffall, she went at last to a corner of the room, and got a heavy dressing-gown and put it on; slipped her bare feet into soft slippers, and made for the door. Mr. Baffall still slumbered heavily as she opened the door and went out on to the staircase. Even then she had no very distinct idea of what she was to do. The fear had gone; she seemed to see only out in the darkness this lonely man who was fighting out some problem; seemed to feel, in the very heart of her, that he wanted her, and that she could help him. She felt her way down the stairs, and found a candle and lighted it; softly undid the bolts and locks of the door; and appeared there in the doorway, with her candle held above her head. That was the appearance she made to Paul Nannock, as he paused outside the railings and looked towards her. Unconsciously this was what he had prayed and hoped for; for here was a woman who might--indeed, who must--understand. He thrust open the gate, and went in slowly, with his eyes fixed upon her; and so for a moment they looked at each other. And as they looked, all the surprise of the meeting was gone; it was only a man and a woman smiling upon each other in a very perfection of kindly friendship. "I saw you--a long time ago," she whispered. "Funny--I seemed to think it was you. Come in--come in and talk to me." He went in and she closed the door; with a little cheery whisper to him that the fire was not quite out, and that it was a chilly night, and that Baffall was asleep, and that Old Paul mustn't mind her "get-up," Mrs. Baffall took him into a room, and set down the candle. And there stood, with her grey hair disordered and falling about her shoulders, looking at him, and mutely asking what he had to say. And because what he had to say was so momentous, he made no apology for his coming--he spoke direct from his heart. "It's a little--a little trouble," he said--"and I wanted--wanted someone to speak to."