He looked at her with amusement. For the moment, she was no longer Cicely Farrell, extravagantly dressed, but the shrewd hospital worker, who although she would accept no responsibility that fettered her goings and comings beyond a certain point, was yet, as he well knew, invaluable, as a force in the background, to both the nursing and medical staff of Carton. 'Well, what did Seaton say?' 'That you would have another bad relapse, if you attempted yet to go to work.' 'I shall risk it.' 'That's so like you. You never take anyone's advice.' 'On the contrary, I am the meekest and most docile of men.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'You were docile, I suppose, when Seaton begged you not to go off to the Rectory, and give yourself all that extra walking backwards and forwards to the hospital every day?' 'I wanted a change of scene. I like the old Rector--I even like family prayers.' 'I am sure everything--and _everybody_--is perfect at the Rectory!' 'No--not perfect--but peaceable.' He looked at her smiling. His grey eyes, under their strong black brows, challenged her. She perceived in them a whole swarm of unspoken charges. Her own colour rose. 'So peace is what you want?' 'Peace--and a little sympathy.' 'And we give you neither?' He hesitated. 'Willy never fails one.' 'So it's my crimes that are driving you away? It's all to be laid on my shoulders?' He laughed--uncertainly. 'Don't you believe me when I say I want to do some work?' 'Not much. So I have offended you?' His look changed, became grave--touched with compunction. 'Miss Farrell, I oughtn't to have been talking like this. You and Willy have been awfully good to me.' 'And then you call me "Miss Farrell"!' she cried, passionately--'when you know very well that you've called me Cicely for years.' 'Hush!' said Marsworth suddenly, 'what was that?' He turned back towards Rydal. On the shore path, midway between them and the little bay at the eastern end of the lake, where Farrell and Nelly Sarratt had been sitting, were Hester Martin and Bridget. They too had turned round, arrested in their walk. Beyond them, at the edge of the water, Farrell could be seen beckoning. And a little way behind him on the slope stood a boy with a bicycle. 'He is calling us,' said Marsworth, and began to run. Hester Martin was already running--Bridget too. But Hester and Marsworth outstripped the rest. Farrell came to meet them. 'Hester, for God's sake, get her sister!' 'What is it?' gasped Hester. 'Is he killed?' 'No--"Wounded and missing!" Poor, poor child!' 'Where is she?' 'She's sitting there--dazed--with the telegram. She's hardly said anything since it came.' Hester ran on. There on a green edge of the bank sat Nelly staring at a fluttering piece of paper. Hester sank beside her, and put her arms round her. 'Dear Mrs. Sarratt!' 'What does it mean?' said Nelly turning her white face. 'Read it.' '"Deeply regret to inform you your husband reported wounded and missing!"'