He was in a state when the strongest suggestion would have its way with him. He wanted to make Miriam suffer; he wanted to be dealt with kindly, and he had a pitiful and unconscious willingness to take another's mould. So, when he saw Helen on the moor, the sneering born of her distance from him changed slowly to a desire for nearness, and he remembered with what friendliness they had sat together in the heather one autumn night, and how peace had seemed to lie upon them both. A woman like that might keep a man straight, he thought, and when she stopped to speak to him one morning, her smile was balm to his hurts. She looked at him in her frank way. "You don't look well, George." "Oh--I'm all right," he said, hitting his gaiters with his stick. "It's a lovely day," she said, "and you have some lambs already. I hope the snow won't come and kill them." "Hope not. We're bound to lose some of them, though." Why, he asked himself angrily, was she not afraid of him who was planning injury to her sister? She made him feel as though he could never injure any one. "You haven't noticed my dog," she said. "Yes--" he began. He had been noticing him for days, marching beside her against the sky. "He's a fine beast." "Isn't he?" Her finger-tips were on Jim's head. "You want a dog now there's no man in your house." She laughed a little as she said, "And he feels his responsibility, don't you, Jim?" "Come here, lad," Halkett called to him. "Come on. That's right!" "He seems to like you." "I never knew the dog that didn't; but don't make him too soft, or he'll be no good to you." "Well," she said gaily, "you are not likely to break into our house!" His flush alarmed her, for it told her that she had happened on the neighbourhood of his thoughts, and her mind was in a flurry to assert her innocence and engender his, but no words came to her, and her hand joined his in fondling the dog's head. "Well, I must be going on," George said, and after an uncertain instant he walked away, impoverished and enriched. Helen sat down heavily, as though one of her own heart-beats had pushed her there, and putting her arm round Jim's neck, she leaned her head on him. "Jim," she said, "don't you wish Zebedee would come back? If I hadn't promised--" She looked about her. George had disappeared, and near by grey sheep were eating with a concentration that disdained her and the dog. It was a peaceful scene, and a few early lambs dotted it with white. "It's silly to feel like this," she said. "Let's go and find Miriam." She was discovered in the garden, digging. "But why?" Helen asked. "I must have exercise." Her hair was loosened, her teeth worked on her under-lip as her foot worked on the spade. "You don't know how I miss my riding!" "I've just seen George." "Have you?" "I spoke to him." "How brave! How did he look?" "Horrid. His eyes were bloodshot." "Ah! He has been drinking. That's despair. Perhaps it's time I tried to cheer him up."