The gentleness of his voice only made the desolation in Gwen's heart the more poignant. In a week's time she would have to leave this beautiful kindly little home, this house of refuge. The fear she had had before of the Warden vanished at his sudden tenderness of tone; he seemed now something to cling to, something solid and protective that belonged to the world of ease and comfort, of good things; things to be desired above all else, and from which she was going to be cruelly banished--to Stow. She made a convulsive noise somewhere in her young throat, but was inarticulate. There came sounds of approaching steps. The Warden hesitated but only for a moment. He moved to the door of the library. "Come in here," he said, a little peremptorily, and he turned and opened it for Gwen. Gwen slid within and moving blindly, knocked herself against the protruding wing of his book-shelves. That made the Warden vexed with somebody, the somebody who had made the child cry so much that she couldn't see where she was going. He closed the door behind her. "You have bad news in that letter?" he asked. "Your mother is not ill?" Gwen shook her head and stared upon the floor, her lips twitching. "Anything you can talk over with Lady Dashwood?" he asked. "No," was the stifled answer with a shake of the dark head. "Can you tell me about it? I might be able to advise, help you?" "No!" This time the sound was long drawn out with a shrill sob. What was to be done? "Try not to cry!" he said gently. "Tell me what it is all about. If you need help--perhaps I can help you!" So much protecting sympathy given to her, after that letter, made Gwen feel the joy of utter weakness in the presence of strength, of saving support. "Shall I read that letter?" he asked, putting out his hand. Gwen clutched it tighter. No, no, that would be fatal! He laid his hand upon hers. Gwen began to tremble. She shook from head to foot, even her teeth chattered. She held tight on to that letter--but she leaned nearer to him. "Then," said the Warden, without removing his hand, "tell me what is troubling you? It is something in that letter?" Gwen moved her lips and made a great effort to speak. "It's--it's nothing!" she said. "Nothing!" repeated the Warden, just a little sternly. This was too much for Gwen, the tears rose again swiftly into her eyes and began to drop down her cheeks. "It's only----" she began. "Yes, tell me," said the Warden, coaxingly, for those tears hurt him, "tell me, child, never mind what it is." "It's only--," she began again, and now her teeth chattered, "only--that nobody cares what happens to me--I've got no home!"