For almost a minute she made no reply. In the silence I could feel her struggling for control of her voice. When at last she spoke, she seemed to have fought down her emotion, for her tone was almost indifferent: “Very well, Uncle Stanley. You refuse to help these people; but I am not so easy in my mind. I will go into the South myself and do my best to help them; and if I cannot help, I can at least take the same risks as they do. _I_ can’t stay here, well fed and well cared for when they are suffering.” “You will not do that, Elsa. No, I don’t mean to prevent you going if you wish, though you have no idea what you would be going to. But I haven’t brought you up to be a shirker; and you’re needed here. You have the whole of your work at your finger-ends and if you go it will dislocate that department temporarily; and we can’t afford to have even a temporary upset at this stage. You promised you would stay, no matter what happened; and I ask you to keep your promise now. I also tell you that I need you, and your work here is helping to save lives in the Area, more lives than you could ever save outside. Now do you wish to go?” She thought for a time, evidently weighing one thing and another. While she was still silent, I broke in, wisely or unwisely I did not know. “If Elsa goes into the South, Nordenholt, I go with her to look after her. You must find someone else to take my place. I can’t let her go alone.” Nordenholt’s voice was as calm as ever. “You understand, Elsa? If you go, you take away Mr. Flint; and although I can replace you in your department, I doubt if I can get anyone as good as he is in his line. Go South and you cripple one of the essential parts of the Area. Stay here, and you help us all towards safety--and we are not near the safety-line yet. Which is it to be? I put no pressure on you. I only point out what I think is your duty.” I had expected some angry reply, some hurried decision which might bring disaster in its train; but luckily things took a different turn. I believe that the strain had been too great for her. Now came the collapse; and before I knew what had happened, she had broken into tears. Nordenholt leaned over her, trying to comfort her; but it was useless; and he let her work out her fit of emotion to the end. At last she pulled herself together. “If you are sure you need me, I will stay. But I hate you both. I hate the work. I hate the Area and everything in it. I’ll keep my promise to you; but things will never be the same again.... And, oh, this morning I was so happy.” Nordenholt climbed aboard the car without another word, and I drove on into the dark. Now and again I heard a half-suppressed sob from the girl at my side; but that was all. At the door of Nordenholt’s house I stopped. Elsa left me without uttering even “Good-night.” I watched her tall, slim figure go up the steps and disappear; and something blinded me. I found Nordenholt standing at the side of the car.