'Oh, I shouldn't dare--I should be afraid!' said Nelly, hardly liking to take the treasure in her own hands. 'Aren't they--aren't they worth immense sums?' Sir William laughed. 'Well, of course, they're valuable--everybody wants them. But if you would ever like that one to copy, you shall have it, and any other that would help you. I know you wouldn't let it be hurt, if you could help it--because you'd love it--as I do. You wouldn't let a Turner drawing like that fade and blister in the sun--as I've seen happen again and again in houses he painted them for. Brutes! Hanging's too good for people who maltreat Turners. Let me relieve you of it now. I must get you some tea. But the drawing will come to you next week. You won't be able to think of it till then.' He looked at her with the ardent sympathy which sprang easily from his quick, emotional temperament, and made it possible for him to force his way rapidly into intimacy, where he desired to be intimate. But Nelly shrank into herself. She put the drawing away, and did not seem to care to look at any more. Farrell wished he had left his remark unspoken, and finding that he had somehow extinguished her smiles and her talk, he relieved her of his company, and went away to talk to Sarratt and Captain Marsworth. As soon as tea was over, Nelly beckoned to her husband. 'Are you going so soon?' said Hester Martin, who had been unobtrusively mothering her, since Farrell left her--'When may I come and see you?' 'To-morrow?' said Nelly vaguely, looking up. 'George hoped you would come, before he goes. There are--there are only three days.' 'I will come to-morrow,' said Miss Martin, touching Nelly's hand softly. The cold, small fingers moved, as though instinctively, towards her, and took refuge in her warm capacious hand. Then Nelly whispered to Bridget--appealingly-- 'I want to go, Bridget.'