'And what about those--to whom it will do harm?' 'Oh no, it won't do harm--to anybody,' she faltered. 'It will do the greatest harm!'--he laid a sharp emphasis on the words. 'Isn't it worth while to be just the joy and inspiration of those who can work hard--so that they go away from you, renewed like eagles? Cicely and I come--we tell you our troubles--our worries--our failures, and our successes. We couldn't tell them to anyone else. But you sit here; and you're so gentle and so wise--you see things so clearly, just because you're not in the crowd, not in the rough and tumble--that we go away--bucked up!--and run our shows the better for our hours with you. Why must women be always bustling and hurrying, and all of them doing the same things? If you only knew the blessing it is to find someone with a little leisure just to feel, and think!--just to listen to what one has to say. You know I am always bursting with things to say!' He looked at her with a laugh. His colour had risen. 'I arrive here--often--full of grievances and wrath against everybody--hating the Government--hating the War Office--hating our own staff, or somebody on it--entirely and absolutely persuaded that the country is going to the dogs, and that we shall be at Germany's mercy in six months. Well, there you sit--I don't know how you manage it!--but somehow it all clears away. I don't want to hang anybody any more--I think we are going to win--I think our staff are splendid fellows, and the nurses, angels--(they ain't, though, all the same!)--and it's all _you_!--just by being you--just by giving me rope enough--letting me have it all out. And I go away with twice the work in me I had when I came. And Cicely's the same--and Hester. You play upon us all--just because'--he hesitated--'because you're so sweet to us all. You raise us to a higher power; you work through us. Who else will do it if you desert us?' Her lips trembled. 'I don't want to desert you, but--what right have I to such comfort--such luxury--when other people are suffering and toiling?' He raised his eyebrows. 'Luxury? This little room? And there you sit sewing and knitting all day! And I'll be bound you don't eat enough to keep a sparrow!' There was silence. She was saying to herself--'Shall I ever be able to go?--to break with them all?' The thought, the image, of George flashed again through her mind. But why was it so much fainter, so much less distinct than it had been an hour ago? Yet she seemed to turn to him, to beg him piteously to protect her from something vague and undefined. Suddenly a low voice spoke-- 'Nelly!--don't go!' She looked up--startled--her childish eyes full of tears. He held out his hand, and she could not help it, she yielded her own. Farrell's look was full of energy, of determination. He drew nearer to her, still holding her hand. But he spoke with perfect self-control.