The aspect of the man showed of what a tremendous strain this affected calmness was the outcome. Indeed, the deliberateness of the words, even more than the words themselves, hushed her into a conviction of his sincerity, which was disquieting because she found it so inexplicable. She smoothed the folds of her dress, casting at him, from time to time, glances full of wistfulness and pity; and at last she said, in the voice of a person who resigns herself to bewilderment: "Well, of course I'll do as you wish. But you have both very queer notions of what is right, that's certain; help seems equally repugnant to the pair of you." "Why do you say that?" inquired Kincaid. "What help has Miss Brettan declined?" "She was reluctant to refer anybody to me, I thought, when I mentioned the matter to-day. I suppose that was another instance of delicacy over my head." "The reference? She won't make use of it?" "She seemed very doubtful of doing so. I said: 'Without any reference, what on earth will become of you?' And she said, 'Yes, she understood, but----' But something; I forget exactly what it was now." "But that's insane!" he said imperatively. "She'll be helpless without it. She has been your companion, and you have had no fault to find with her; you can conscientiously say so." He rose, and shook his coat clear of the ash that had fallen in a lump from the cigar. "Nothing that has passed between Miss Brettan and me can affect her right to your testimony to the two years that she has lived with you; I should like her to know I said so." "I will tell her," affirmed his mother. "What are you going to do?" "It's getting late.... By the way, there's another thing. It will be a long while before she finds another home, at the best; she mustn't think I have anything to do with it, but I want her to take some money before she goes, to keep her from distress.... Where did I leave my hat?" "You want me to persuade her to take some money, as if it were from me?" "Yes, as if it were from you--fifty pounds--to keep her from distress.... Did I hang it up outside?" His mother went across to him and wound her arms about his neck. "Can you spare so much, Philip?" "I have been putting by," he said, "for some time." CHAPTER XI Mary had spent the evening very anxiously. The formless future was a terror that she could not banish; she could evolve no definite line of action to sustain a hope. She awoke from a troubled sleep with a startled sense of something having happened. After a few seconds, the cause was repeated. The silence was broken by the jangling of a bell, and nervous investigation proved it to be Mrs. Kincaid's. The old lady explained that she was feeling very unwell--an explanation that was corroborated by her voice--and, striking a light, Mary saw that she was shivering violently. "I can't stop it; and I'm so cold. I don't know what it is; it's like cold water running down my back."