And in less than five minutes she knew that the child was not going to talk about herself and that she had been right in making up her own mind to wait. Whatsoever the strain of silence, there would be no speech now. The piteous darkness of her eye held a stillness that was heart-breaking. It was a stillness of such touching endurance of something inevitable. Whatsoever had happened to her, whatsoever was going to happen to her, she would make no sound. She would outwardly be affectionate, pretty-mannered Miss Robin just as Dowie herself would give all her strength to trying to seem to be nothing and nobody but Dowie. And what it would cost of effort to do it well! When they sat down together it was because she drew Robin by the thin little hand to an easy chair and she still held the thin hand when she sat near her. "Henrietta's quite well, I'm glad to say," she answered. "And the baby's a nice plump little fellow. I left them very comfortable--and I think in time Henrietta will be married again." "Married again!" said Robin. "Again!" "He's a nice well-to-do man and he's fond of her and he's fond of children. He's never had any and he's always wanted them." "Has he?" Robin murmured. "That's very nice for Henrietta." But there was a shadow in her eyes which was rather like frightened bewilderment. Dowie still holding the mere nothing of a hand, stroked and patted it now and then as she described Mr. Jenkinson and the children and the life in the house in Manchester. She wanted to gain time and commonplace talk helped her. "She won't be married again until her year's up," she explained. "And it's the best thing she could do--being left a young widow with children and nothing to live on. Mr. Jenkinson can give her more than she's ever had in the way of comforts." "Did she love poor Jem very much?" Robin asked. "She was very much taken with him in her way when she married him," Dowie said. "He was a cheerful, joking sort of young man and girls like Henrietta like jokes and fun. But they were neither of them romantic and it had begun to be a bit hard when the children came. She'll be very comfortable with Mr. Jenkinson and being comfortable means being happy--to Henrietta." Then Robin smiled a strange little ghost of a smile--but there were no dimples near it. "You haven't told me that I am thin, Dowie," she said. "I know I am thin, but it doesn't matter. And I am glad you kissed me first. That made me sure that you were Dowie and not only a dream. Everything has been seeming as if it were a dream--everything--myself--everybody--even you--_you_!" And the small hand clutched her hard. A large lump climbed into Dowie's throat but she managed it bravely.