He saw also that she was a gentlewoman fitted for more refined pursuits. How had she reached this pass? he wondered. Would she volunteer the information, or should he ask her? He failed to perceive what assistance he could render if he knew; yet if he did not help her she would go away and die, and he would know that she was going away to die as he let her out. "I was introduced to the firm by a very old connection of theirs. I couldn't find anything to do, and he fancied that as I was--well, that as I was a lady--it sounds rather odd under the circumstances to speak of being a lady, doesn't it----?" "I don't see anything odd about it," he said. "He fancied I might do rather well. But I think it's a drawback, on the contrary. It's not easy to me to decline to take 'No' for an answer; and nobody can do any good at work she's ashamed of." "But you shouldn't be ashamed," he said; "it's honest enough." "That's what the manager tells me. Only when la woman has to go into a stranger's office and bother him, and be snubbed for her pains, the honesty doesn't prevent her feeling uncomfortable. You must have found me a nuisance yourself." "I'm afraid I was rather brusque," he said quickly. "I was busy; I hope I wasn't rude?" Her colour rose. "I didn't mean that at all," she stammered; "I shouldn't be very grateful to remind you of it even if you had been!" "I should have thought a book of that sort would have been tolerably easy to sell. It's a useful work of reference. What's the price?" "Two pounds ten altogether. It isn't dear, but people won't buy it, all the same." "Yes, it's got up well," he said, taking it from the desk and turning the leaves. "How many volumes, did you say?" "Four." She made a little tentative movement to recover it, but he went on as if the gesture had escaped him. "If it's not too late I'll change my mind and subscribe for a copy. Put my name down, please, will you?" She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "No," she said, "thank you, I'd rather not." "Why?" "You don't want the book, I know you don't. You've fed me and done enough for me already; I won't take your money too; I can't!" Her bosom began to swell tempestuously. He saw by the widened eyes fixed upon the fire that she was struggling not to cry again. "There," he said gently, "don't break down! Let's talk about something else." "Oh!"--she sneaked a tear away--"I'm not used ... don't think----" "No, no," he said, "_I_ know, _I_ understand. Poke it for me, will you? let's have a blaze." She took the poker up, and prolonged the task a minute while she hung her head. Remarked Kincaid: "It's awful to be hard up, isn't it? I've been through all the stages; it's abominable!" "_You_ have?" "Oh yes; I know all about it. So I don't tell you that 'money's the least thing.' Only people who have always had enough say that." "One wants so little in the world to relieve anxiety," she said; "it does seem cruel that so few can get enough for ease."