He found himself at a loss in the big house which seemed very empty. There was not a sound in it but the ticking of the clock and, upstairs, Helen's movements, which were few and quiet. He realized that he was practically alone with her, and though he listened earnestly, he could not tell exactly where she was, and at any moment she might come slipping down the stairs before he knew she was at the head of them. The fancy pleased him; it kept him poised for her; it would be fine, he thought, to play at hide-and-seek with her, to search the old house while she ran from him, to hear the clicking of a door or an unwary step, and at last to catch her in his arms, in the dark of a winter night. He waited, but she did not come, and, understanding that his presence in the hall might well keep her upstairs, he wandered into the kitchen. The room was neat, but a pile of dirty plates and dishes awaited washing, and having looked at them thoughtfully, he took off his coat, and he was working in the scullery when Helen appeared. Already he had filled the scuttles and the kettles. "Thank you very much," she said, in a kind of wonder. He was a different person now, and she was touched by the sight of this careful dealing with mop and plates, by his puckered brow and lips. He was like a child, and she did not wish to see him so. If he continued simple, she might grow fond of him, and that, she thought, would be disloyalty to Zebedee. To marry George without love, affection, friendship or respect was only to pay the price he had demanded; but to feel kindness for him, even that human kindness she could seldom refuse to any one, was to make the sacrifice less complete, to cloud, in some way, the honesty of the eyes which would have to look at Zebedee when he learnt what she had done. "It's kind, George, but don't do it." "I'm slow, but I can manage." "Splendidly, but I can do it." "You can't do everything." Her face was pinched as she said, "I'm glad to do it." He straightened the big back he was bending in her service. "Let me help. I'll be here to light the kitchen fire tomorrow." "There's no need: Mrs. Samson is coming, I've promised to have her every day." "Samson is my man." "I know." Lines were beginning to show between her brows. "George, nobody need be told." Again he straightened himself, but now he seemed to threaten with his bulk. "I'd feel safer if you weren't so secret." "Can't you trust me?" she said. "How often must I ask you that?" He had a slow way of flushing to the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said humbly, as he used his thumb nail on a plate.