"She's the right one, thank heaven," the Beggar Man thought, as he saw the way in which she took them both to her heart, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he had been greatly worried with so much responsibility all at once. But Mrs. Shawyer took it from him willingly; she shopped for the twins, and found them a school in the country within driving distance of her own home. "I'll look after them, don't you worry, Mr. Forrester," she told him. "They'll be as happy as the day is long." She wanted to carry them off then and there, but Forrester knew he could not take them without first telling Faith, and that was a duty which he dreaded. He consulted Peg about it. What ought he to do? Was Faith well enough to see him yet? Peg looked away guiltily. "She's been well enough for some time," she said honestly. "But every time I mention it to her she seems to shrivel up, so you'd best go in of your own accord, and I'll know nothing about it." There was a little smile in her eyes as she watched him turn towards Faith's room. He was so big and burly and strong-looking, but she was not one whit deceived, and she knew that he was as nervous as a girl as he knocked at his wife's door. Faith said "Come in" in a small, tired voice, and the Beggar Man turned the handle and walked in. He had not seen her for a week, and his first emotion was one of unutterable thankfulness that she did not look as ill and frail as he had dreaded. She was sitting by the window, and the room was full of flowers, which Peg had bought with his money, and Faith wore a black frock, bought with his money also! She started up when she saw him, the colour rushing to her face. She looked past him furtively to the door, but evidently realized how hopeless were her chances of escape, for she sat down again resignedly, though her soft, childish face took a curiously hard expression. "I am glad you are better," said the Beggar Man. He was very nervous; he stood against the door, the width of the room between them, his hands deep-thrust into his pockets so that he should not yield to his impulse to go across to her and take her into his arms. A deep pity for her surged into his heart. She was his wife, but she was only a child, and they were almost strangers. "Peg has been very good to you--to all of us," he said, hoping to soften her. "I like your friend Peg," he added kindly. Faith did not move or answer. "I wanted to speak to you about the future," he went on desperately. She raised her eyes then; such frightened eyes they were. "My future has nothing to do with you," she said. "I can go my own way--I don't want any help." He moved away from the door, dragged a chair up and sat down beside her.