Her hand was hot and a little damp when Drake took it, and her face was somewhat flushed. She had all at once become ashamed that she had come to ask him for anything, and she took out her pocket-handkerchief and began to roll it in her palms. He misunderstood her agitation, and trying to cover it he offered her his arm and took her across the bridge, and they turned westward down the path that runs along the margin of the lake. “Mr. Storm has gone,” she said, thinking to explain herself. “I know,” he answered. “Is it generally known, then?” “I had a letter from him yesterday.” “Was it about me?” “Yes.” “You must not mind if he says things, you know.” “I don't, Glory. I set them down to the egotism of the religious man. The religious man can not believe that anybody can live a moral life and act on principle except from the religious impulse.... I suppose he has warned you against me, hasn't he?” “Well--yes.” “I'm at a loss to know what I've done to deserve it. But time must justify me. I am not a religious man myself, you know, though I hate to talk of it. To tell you the truth, I think the religious idea a monstrous egotism altogether, and the love of God merely the love of self. Still, you must judge for yourself, Glory.” “Are we not wasting our time a little?” she said. “I am here; isn't that proof enough of my opinion?” And then in an agitated whisper she added: “I have only half an hour, the gates will be closing, and I want to ask your advice, you know. You remember what I told you in my letter?” He patted the hand on his arm and said, “Tell me how it happened.” She told him everything, with many pauses, expecting every moment that he would break in upon her and say, “Why didn't you box the woman's ears?” or perhaps laugh and assure her that it did not matter in the least, and she was making too much of a mere bagatelle. But he listened to every syllable, and after she had finished there was silence for a moment. Then he said: “I'm sorry--very sorry; in fact, I am much troubled about it.” Her nerves were throbbing hard and her hand on his arm was twitching. “If you had left of your own accord after that scene in the board room, it would have been so different--so easy for me to help you!” “How?” “I should have spoken to my chief--he is a governor of many hospitals--and said, 'A young friend of mine, a nurse, is uncomfortable in her present place and would like to change her hospital.' It would have been no sooner said than done. But now--now there is the black book against you, and God knows if ... In fact, somebody has laid a trap for you, Glory, intending to get rid of you at the first opportunity, and you seem to have walked straight into it.” She felt stunned. “He has forgotten all he has said to me,” she thought. In a feeble, expressionless voice she asked: “But what am I to do now?” “Let me think.” They walked some steps in silence. “He is turning it over,” she thought. “He will tell me how to begin.”