The Church-clock was striking nine when he reached Leila's flat, went up, and knocked. Sounds from-a piano ceased; the door was opened by Noel. She recoiled when she saw who it was, and said: “Why did you come, Daddy? It was much better not.” “Are you alone here?” “Yes; Leila gave me her key. She has to be at the hospital till ten to-night.” “You must come home with me, my dear.” Noel closed the piano, and sat down on the divan. Her face had the same expression as when he had told her that she could not marry Cyril Morland. “Come, Nollie,” he said; “don't be unreasonable. We must see this through together.” “No.” “My dear, that's childish. Do you think the mere accident of your being or not being at home can affect my decision as to what my duty is?” “Yes; it's my being there that matters. Those people don't care, so long as it isn't an open scandal.” “Nollie!” “But it is so, Daddy. Of course it's so, and you know it. If I'm away they'll just pity you for having a bad daughter. And quite right too. I am a bad daughter.” Pierson smiled. “Just like when you were a tiny.” “I wish I were a tiny again, or ten years older. It's this half age—But I'm not coming back with you, Daddy; so it's no good.” Pierson sat down beside her. “I've been thinking this over all day,” he said quietly. “Perhaps in my pride I made a mistake when I first knew of your trouble. Perhaps I ought to have accepted the consequences of my failure, then, and have given up, and taken you away at once. After all, if a man is not fit to have the care of souls, he should have the grace to know it.” “But you are fit,” cried Noel passionately; “Daddy, you are fit!” “I'm afraid not. There is something wanting in me, I don't know exactly what; but something very wanting.” “There isn't. It's only that you're too good—that's why!” Pierson shook his head. “Don't, Nollie!” “I will,” cried Noel. “You're too gentle, and you're too good. You're charitable, and you're simple, and you believe in another world; that's what's the matter with you, Daddy. Do you think they do, those people who want to chase us out? They don't even begin to believe, whatever they say or think. I hate them, and sometimes I hate the Church; either it's hard and narrow, or else it's worldly.” She stopped at the expression on her father's face, the most strange look of pain, and horror, as if an unspoken treachery of his own had been dragged forth for his inspection. “You're talking wildly,” he said, but his lips were trembling. “You mustn't say things like that; they're blasphemous and wicked.” Noel bit her lips, sitting very stiff and still, against a high blue cushion. Then she burst out again: “You've slaved for those people years and years, and you've had no pleasure and you've had no love; and they wouldn't care that if you broke your heart. They don't care for anything, so long as it all seems proper. Daddy, if you let them hurt you, I won't forgive you!”