One last protest, however, he makes as a salve to his conscience. ‘What do you see in this place that so attracts you?’ asks he, with ever-increasing grumpiness. The girl turns to him a flushed and tearful face. ‘I never knew what a home could be like till I came here,’ says she. ‘Never, never! You have had one—all the world has had one except me. It means new life to me. Oh’—bitterly—‘it is the only life I have ever known—the only happiness. If, sir’—she comes towards him and with a little impulsive action holds out her hands—‘if I might stay——’ ‘Well, you can,’ says he ungraciously. He gives in so suddenly, and she is naturally so unprepared for so quick a surrender, that for a moment she says nothing. Her eyes are fixed on him, however, as if trying to read him through; they are beautiful eyes, and Wyndham, his professional instincts on the alert, finds himself wondering what lies behind them in that brain of hers. ‘Do you mean it?’ says she at last breathlessly; if you do, I cannot thank you enough. Oh, to stay here within these lovely walls!’ Instinctively she glances out of the window to the ivy-clad walls, as if in their protection she finds great comfort. A moment later a cloud gathers on her forehead. ‘But you don’t like me to stay,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t matter what I like,’ says Wyndham, who certainly does not shine on this occasion. ‘The arrangement we have come to now is that you are to rent this cottage from me, at what sum we can agree about later on.’ ‘To rent it? I shall, then, be—— It’— she tries to hide the joy in her eyes, feeling it to be indecent—‘it will belong to me?’ ‘Yes,’ says Wyndham. At this moment he feels very little more will make him positively hate her. ‘It will no longer be yours?’ Her voice is trembling. ‘In a sense, no.’ He turns and takes up his hat; this interview is getting too much for him. There will be an explosion shortly if she goes on like this. ‘It seems very selfish,’ says the girl. She is looking at him, though for the last three minutes he has refused to look at her. ‘I am taking your house away from you.’ ‘There are other houses.’ He is now putting on his gloves. ‘Ah! that is as true for me as for you.’ ‘We have come to an agreement, I think’—grimly. ‘Let us keep to it.’ He turns to the door. ‘You are going?’ says she nervously. She follows him. ‘You——’ She stops, and courtesy compels him to look back. Two troubled eyes meet his. ‘When——’ stammers she. ‘I shall come down some day next week to make final arrangements,’ says he impatiently, and again takes a step or two away, getting so far this time as to turn the handle of the door. Here, however, again he glances back. She is standing where he last saw her, her young face looking troubled, frightened, and uncertain.