"'It looks what it is, Mr. George. It's all but threadbare, and it's the only frock she has in the world, poor child! But don't you trouble about that either. You gave me two sovereigns. One of those will buy the stuff, and she and I can make the frock. I've cut out plenty of frocks in my day. I used to make all your mother's frocks once upon a time.' "In the bloom of her youth she had nursed my mother; she had nursed me in her sturdy middle life; and now in her old age she was ready and willing to care for this girl for whose fate I had made myself responsible. "Gerald received me with his customary cheeriness, though I was ten minutes after the half-hour, and the fried sole had frizzled itself to dryness by that delay. "'I've some good news for you!' he exclaimed, in his exuberant way. 'It's all right.' "'What's all right?' "'Your _protégée_. I've written to the parson at Besbery. The story she told us was gospel truth.' "'I never thought it was anything else.' "'Ah, that's because you're over head and ears in love with her,' said Gerald. "I felt myself blushing furiously, blushing like a girl whose secret penchant for the hero of her dreams stands revealed. Of course I protested that nothing was farther from my thoughts than love; that I was only sorry for the girl's loneliness and helplessness. Gerald obviously doubted me; and I had to listen to his sage counsel on the subject. He was my senior by two years, and claimed to be a man of the world, while I had been brought up at my mother's apron-string. He foresaw dangers of which I had no apprehension. "'There is nothing easier to drop into than an entanglement of that sort,' he said. 'You had much better fall in love with a ballet-girl. It may be more expensive for the moment, and there may be a bigger rumpus about it, but it won't compromise your future.' "This friendly remonstrance had no effect upon my conduct during the few remaining days of the long vacation. I went to Ormond Street a second and a third time in the course of those few days. I took Esperanza to an afternoon concert at the St. James's Hall, and enjoyed her ecstasy as she listened to Sainton and Bottesini. For her, music was a passion, and I believe she sat beside me utterly unconscious of my existence, with a soul lifted above earth and all earthly feelings. "'You were happy while the music lasted,' I said, as we walked back to Ormond Street, by a longish round, for I chose the quietest streets rather than the nearest way. "'More than happy,' she answered softly. 'I was talking with my father's spirit.' "'You still believe in the communion of the dead and the living,' I said, 'in spite of the tricks your German friends played upon you?'