She had to answer him. “One of the men on the farm told me. He didn’t say why—merely that you were in danger—that I had better warn you to go.” “And then you decided to come with me?” said Rotherby. “I decided that I couldn’t stay any longer,” she told him steadily. “You came up at the right moment, that was all.” “What?” His eyes searched her again, his expression slowly changing. “You were running away too, were you?” She wondered that he did not press the point of the mysterious attack upon him further, but was thankful that he refrained. She turned from the subject with relief. “I had to get away,” she said again. “You’re not going back?” he questioned. Something rose in her throat. Again she was conscious of that intolerable pain. She forced her utterance. “Never, no, never!” she said. He made no comment, but turned away from her and paced the length of the room before he spoke again. Then, with his back to her, he paused. “And yet you would sooner work yourself to death than marry me!” She answered him immediately with feverish insistence. “Yes, I must work. I must work. I can’t go on being dependent. I can’t endure it.” He turned round. “Perhaps—if you were independent—you might regard me differently,” he said. She was silent. He came slowly back to her. “Circe! May I hope for that?” She looked at him helplessly. He stood before her. “I swear to you,” he said forcibly, “that no one on this earth wants you as I do.” A curious tremor of feeling went through her. She was stirred in spite of herself. He put out his hand to her. “Circe!” His voice came oddly uncontrolled. “Won’t you—can’t you——” She did not know what moved her—his obvious earnestness or her own utter friendlessness. But somehow her mood answered his. Her hand went into his grasp. “But I must be independent first,” she said. It was the last effort of her pride. “You’ll help me to be that?” “I’ll help you,” he said. CHAPTER III THE TURN OF THE TIDE The days that succeeded her flight from Tetherstones left an ineradicable impression upon Frances. She maintained her steady refusal to accompany Rotherby to London, but she did not remain at _The Man in the Moon_. She found a bedroom over the little Post Office at Fordestown, and here she established herself, after collecting her few belongings from her former lodging at Brookside. She had very little money left, but she built on the hope that her sketches might find a market. Rotherby had undertaken to do his best to dispose of the one which he had taken with him, and she had plans for making more while the golden weather lasted.