He began to pace the room. Presently, pausing beside Connie, he plunged into an agitated and incoherent account of the situation—of the efforts he had made to get even some temporary help—and of the failure of all of them. It was the confession of a weak and defeated man; and as made by a man of his age to a girl of Connie’s, it was extremely painful. Nora hid her eyes again, and Connie got paler and paler. At last she went up to him, holding out again appealing hands. ‘_Please_ don’t tell me any more! It’s all right. I just love you, Uncle Ewen—and—and Nora! I want to help! It makes me happy. Oh, why won’t you let me?’ He wavered. ‘You dear child!’ There was a silence. Then he resumed—as though feeling his way— ‘It occurs to me—that I might consult Sorell. If he thought it right—if we could protect you from loss⸺!’ Connie sprang at him and kissed him in delight. ‘Of course!—that’ll do splendidly! Mr. Sorell will see, at once, it’s the right thing for me, and my happiness. I can’t be turned out—I really can’t! So it’s settled. Yes—it’s _settled_!—or it will be directly—and nobody need bother any more—need they? But—there’s one condition.’ Ewen Hooper looked at her in silence. —‘That you—you and Nora—go to Rome this Christmas, this very Christmas, Uncle Ewen! I think I put in enough—and I can give you such a lot of letters!’ She laughed joyously, though she was very near crying. ‘I have never been able to go to Rome—or Athens—never!’ he said, in a low voice, as he sat down again at his table. All the thwarted hopes, all the sordid cares of years were in the quiet words. ‘Well, now you’re going!’ said Connie, shyly. ‘Oh, that would be ripping! You’ll promise me that—you _must_, please!’ Silence again. She approached Nora, timidly. ‘Nora!’ Nora rose. Her face was stained with tears. ‘It’s all wrong,’ she said heavily—‘it’s all wrong. But—I give in. What I said was a lie. There is nothing else in the world that we could possibly do.’ And she rushed out of the room without another word. Connie looked wistfully after her. Nora’s pain in receiving had stirred in her the shamefaced distress in giving that lives in generous souls. ‘Why should I have more than they?’ She stole out after Nora. Ewen Hooper was left staring at the letter from his bankers, and trying to collect his thoughts. Connie’s voice was still in his ears. It had all the sweetness of his dead sister’s. * * * * * Connie was reading in her own room before dinner. She had shut herself up there, feeling rather battered by the emotions of the afternoon, when she heard a knock that she knew was Nora’s. ‘Come in!’ Nora appeared. She had had her storm of weeping in private and got over it. She was now quite composed, but the depression, the humiliation even, expressed in her whole bearing dismayed Connie afresh. Nora took a seat on the other side of the fire. Connie eyed her uneasily.