"I do know all that, sir. I thought that myself, sir, when I first come. Every night I cried because I was so wicked, and I thought I should never be forgiven, and mother had said such awful things to me. But Mr. Folyat came . . ." "Frederic?" "No, sir, Mr. Serge. He comes every Saturday. He paints all the afternoon and then comes here in the evening. Sometimes he walks a great many miles. He come and said I must never have any thought in my head that wasn't happy, that I must never for a single instant let myself be afraid, for the sake of the child. He said everything that happened to me happened to the child too. And I've tried and I have been happy, so I know it's true. He says: 'What's done is done, and people aren't wicked all the time or good all the time.' I don't understand everything he says, but I always feel better when he comes, and I don't think of anything but it. I want it to love me . . ." "Of course, of course," said Francis. "It is very important for you to be well, but you must not imagine . . ." "I couldn't take money from you, sir, if you thought me wicked. I have been wicked, but I'm not wicked any longer. I couldn't do--what I did, ever again. I couldn't be so silly . . ." Francis thought to himself: "I must make her appreciate the peril through which her soul has passed. . . . She seems to be leaving her soul out of consideration altogether. I must make her see that she has a soul and can only find true happiness in its salvation through . . ." Once more he drew back from the contemplation of difficulties which he felt were too intricate for him. He said: "My dear, be sure I think no ill of you. I only desired, my only thought was . . . is . . . has been to secure you as far as possible from the temporal consequences of your--er--betrayal." He breathed heavily. Then he fell back on his natural candour and added: "I came meaning to say a great deal, but I find that I have nothing to say. I find it quite impossible to take a professional view of your situation. You must forgive me. I cannot help feeling that I have been guilty of an impertinence." Annie still hung her head and plucked at her fingers. She looked at the clock and said: "Mr. Serge ought to be here now, sir. He's generally here before this. There aren't many gentlemen like Mr. Serge, are there, sir?" "I hardly know," replied Francis. "I hardly know, but my experience of the world has been very limited. . . . Do you tend the garden yourself?" "Yes, sir. I help Mrs. Entwistle. I've learned such a lot about the garden since I've been here."