"Nothing matters at all," she said, "but I don't know what to do." "There is a great deal to do," the Duchess said to her and she did not speak as if she were angry. Her expression was not an angry one. She looked as if she were wondering at something and the wondering was almost tender. "We know what to do. But it must be done without delay," said Lord Coombe and his voice reminded her of Mersham Wood. "Come nearer to me. Come quite close. I want--" the Duchess did not explain what she wanted but she pointed to a small square ottoman which would place Robin almost at her knee. Her own early training had been of the statelier Victorian type and it was not easy for her to deal freely with outward expression of emotion. And here emotion sprang at her throat, so to speak, as she watched this childish thing with the frightened doe's eyes. The girl had been an inmate of her house for months; she had been kind to her and had become fond of her, but they had never reached even the borders of intimacy. And yet emotion had seized upon her and they were in the midst of strange and powerful drama. Robin did as she was told. It struck the Duchess that she always did as she was told and she spoke to her hoping that her voice was not ungentle. "Don't look at me as if you were afraid. We are going to take care of you," she said. But the doe's eyes were still great with hopeless fearfulness. "Lord Coombe said--that no one would believe me," Robin faltered. "He thought I was not married to Donal. But I was--I was. I _wanted_ to be married to him. I wanted to do everything he wanted me to do. We loved each other so much. And we were afraid every one would be angry. And so many were killed every day--and before he was killed--Oh!" with a sharp little cry, "I am glad--I am glad! Whatever happens to me I am _glad_ I was married to him before he was killed!" "You poor children!" broke from the Duchess. "You poor--poor mad young things!" and she put an arm about Robin because the barrier built by lack of intimacy was wholly overthrown. Robin trembled all over and looked up in her face. "I may begin to cry," she quavered. "I do not want to trouble you by beginning to cry. I must not." "Cry if you want to cry," the Duchess answered. "It will be better," said Lord Coombe, "if you can keep calm. It is necessary that you should be calm enough to think--and understand. Will you try? It is for Donal's sake." "I will try," she answered, but her amazed eyes still yearningly wondered at the Duchess. Her arm had felt almost like Dowie's. "Which of us shall begin to explain to her?" the Duchess questioned. "Will you? It may be better." They were going to take care of her. She was not to be turned into the street--though perhaps if she were turned into the street without money she would die somewhere--and that would not matter because she would be thankful. The Duchess took one of her hands and held it on her knee. She looked kind still but she was grave.