When he came back she was standing apathetically by the table, looking round the room which she was never to see again. She hated him because he was tearing her away from the only home she knew--hated him because her mother had hated him; the knowledge had quite killed the first immature affection she had felt for him, quite wiped out all the romance. The Beggar Man stood for a moment in the doorway, looking at her, and there was a great longing in his heart to try and comfort her, to try and drive that look of desolation from her childish face, but he knew it was no moment for wavering. "Are you ready?" he asked, and his pity made his voice harsh. "Yes." She followed him out of the house without another word or backward glance, but her heart felt as if it were breaking. She kept telling herself that this was her punishment for having deceived her mother. She wished she could fall down dead, as her mother had done. Forrester only spoke to her once during the drive to his rooms, and that was when he leaned forward and forced her wedding ring back to her third finger. "Don't you ever dare to take it off again," he said. There was a little smile in his eyes as he spoke, but she only heard the masterfulness of his voice, and she shrank back as if he had struck her. Dinner was waiting for them at the flat, as he had said, and there was a maid in attendance who looked with kindly interest at Faith as she took her to her room. "May I take off your boots for you?" she asked, as Faith stood helplessly by the dressing-table. "You must be tired. I will bring some hot water, and when you have had dinner you will feel better." Forrester had felt bound to tell her something of the circumstances of his unusual marriage, and she was deeply interested. She felt sorry for Faith, too. Possibly she could afford to be, seeing the generous salary which Forrester had offered her if she would stay with his wife and do everything in her power to help her and make her happy. Faith looked at her with troubled eyes. "Must I go down to dinner?" The girl smiled kindly. "I think you had better. Mr. Forrester will be disappointed if you do not." "I don't care," said Faith. But she went all the same, and managed to eat something. The Beggar Man made her drink some wine, which brought a faint colour to her white cheeks. She no longer looked round the room with interest or admiration; she felt like a creature at bay, captured against her will by this man. When dinner was ended and cleared away Forrester drew up an armchair for her. "Sit down; I want to talk to you," he said. "Well?" But she stood where she was, with the chair between them.