It was to be hoped that Mrs. Brainard, in the other room, had found a book upon the table which interested her or, hungry for food as she had professed herself to be, she must inevitably have found the time pass slowly before she was summoned to her promised supper. Out in the old, dark, oak-walled kitchen, Brown was still putting questions. He had placed his lady in a chair, and he sat on a little old-fashioned "cricket" before her, one that he had found in the house when he came and had carefully preserved for its oddity. It brought him just where he could look up into her eyes. One of her hands was in both his; he lifted it now and then to his lips as he talked. The packages of eggs and lettuce and bakery cakes stood untouched and forgotten on the table. If Helena remembered to be hungry, it was not worth the spoiling of this hour to demand to be fed. "Can I possibly make you comfortable here?" was one of his questions. "Don't you think I look as if I might help you make us both comfortable?" was her answer. Brown looked at the plain little white blouse, at the simple blue serge skirt, then on down to the foot which showed below the hem of the skirt. "Is this the sort of shoe that working-women wear?" he inquired skeptically. Helena laughed. "Neither Mrs. Brainard nor I could bring ourselves to that," she owned. "And since you and I are only to play at being poor--" "We can afford to keep you in fine shoe feather? Yes, I think we can. But you are going to miss a world of things you are used to, my queen--and not only a world of things--the world itself." "I know. But--I tried living in my world without you--and I failed." He made an inarticulate exclamation, expressive of great joy, and followed it with the age-old demand: "Tell me when you became willing to come to mine." "The night you were in town." "What? Not at Atchison's dinner?" "Yes. I would have come with you then. I would have come with you from the singing of that song." "But you--you let me think you wanted me to come back!" "I am only human. I wanted you to come back. But--I wanted you to refuse to come! If you hadn't refused--" "Yes--" "You wouldn't have towered as high for me as you do now. I might have loved you, but--perhaps--I shouldn't have--adored you!" The last words came in a whisper, and again the wonderful colour poured itself over her face. Brown, at the sight, bent his head upon her hand, and she put her other hand upon his heavy hair and gently caressed it. When he lifted his head his eyes were wet. "Oh, but I don't deserve that," he murmured brokenly, and put up his arms and drew her down to him. Soon he spoke with solemnity. "Darling, you are not making this great sacrifice wholly for me? You love--the One I try to serve? You will be glad to serve Him, too, with me?" "Yes, Donald. But I love Him, I think, through you. I hope to reach your heights some day, but you will have to lead me there."