He said nothing for a time. She was sitting up, her hands clasped on her lap, and as she looked at him she half regretted her last words. This was how they would sit in the little house, by the fire, surrounded by their own possessions, with everything clean and bright and, as he had said, very cosy. She had never had a home. Suddenly she leaned towards him and put her head on his knee. His hand fell on her hair. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she murmured; “but I was just thinking. You’re tempting me again. First with the ring because it was so pretty, and now with a house.” “How else am I to get you?” he cried out. “And you know you were feeling lonely. That’s why I came.” “You thought it was your chance?” “Yes,” he said. “I don’t know the ordinary things, but I know the others.” “I wonder how,” she said, and he answered with the one word, “Love,” in a voice so deep and solemn that she laughed. “Do you know,” she said, “I have never had a home. I’ve lived in other people’s houses, with their ugly furniture, their horrid sticky curtains—” “I shall take that house to-morrow.” “But you can’t go on collecting things like this. Houses and rings—” “The ring’s in my pocket now.” “It must stay there, Charles. I ought not to keep my head on your knee; but it’s comfortable and I have no conscience. None.” She sat up, brushing his chin with her hair. “None!” she said emphatically. “And here’s Aunt Rose coming to fetch me for Aunt Sophia. Mind, I’ve promised nothing. Besides, you haven’t asked me to promise anything.” “Oh!” He blinked. “Well, there’s no time now. Good evening, Miss Mallett.” He pulled himself out of his chair. “Good evening, Charles. I’m glad you’re here to keep Henrietta company. The doctor has been, Henrietta—” “Oh, has he? I didn’t hear him.” “Sophia is settled for the night, and I’m going to her now.” “But she’ll want me!” Henrietta cried. “No, she asked me to stay with her. Good night. Good night, Charles.” “But did you say I wanted to be with her?” Rose, smiling but a little pitiful, said gently, “I gave her the choice and she chose me.” She disappeared, and Henrietta turned to Charles. “You see, she gets everything. She gets everything I ever wanted and she doesn’t try—” Her hands dropped to her side. “She just gets it.” “But what have you wanted?” She turned away. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” “Is she going to marry Francis Sales?” “What makes you ask that?” she cried. “I don’t know. I just thought of it.” “Oh, your thoughts! Why, you suggested the same thing, for me! As if I would look at him!” Charles blinked, his sign of agitation, but Henrietta did not see. “He’s good to look at,” Charles muttered. “He knows how to wear his clothes.” “That doesn’t matter.” Charles heaved a sigh. “One never knows what matters.”