Then for the first time a convulsion of wrath seized Janey. For the first time she saw the cruelty and outrage of it all. Her anger blazed up--against Quentin, against the world, against herself. His last letter lay on the table. She seized it, and thrust it into the fire. Then she noticed the box that held his other letters. She seized that too, and crammed it into the grate. Long tongues of flame shot out, and suddenly one of them caught her dress--she screamed, flames and smoke seemed to wrap her round, and in madness she rushed to the door. A man was in the passage. He grasped her, and held her to him, beating out the flames. "Quentin!" she shrieked, "Quentin! Quentin!" "Janey--darling sister! There! it's all over now. The fire's out. Are you much hurt?" "Quentin! Quentin!" Leonard picked her up bodily, and carried her into the kitchen, sitting down by the fire with her on his knee. He began to examine her. Her skirt was nothing but charred rags, her face and hands were black with grime, and there was a horrible smell of singed hair, but she did not seem to be actually burnt. She was trembling from head to feet, her face hidden against his breast. "I don't think you're really hurt, dear. What a lucky chance I happened to be there! If I'd done as I said and gone to Cherrygarden, you might have been burnt to death. How did you do it, Janey?" "I was burning Quentin's letters.... Oh, Quentin! Quentin!" The last dregs of Janey's self-control were gone. Anxiety, shock, grief, humiliation, love, despair and sickening, physical fright, all crowded into a few short hours, had almost deprived her of her reason. "Quentin! Quentin!" she cried, clinging to Leonard. She was so tall that he had difficulty in holding her on his knee while she struggled. "Janey, I can't understand, dearest. Who's Quentin?--not Quentin Lowe?" "Yes--Quentin Lowe. Lenny, Lenny--he doesn't love me any more." Leonard kissed her smoke-grimed face repeatedly. He was utterly bewildered. "He doesn't love me any more," she continued, gasping. "He loves Tony Strife--he's going to marry her. Lenny, he's a devil." "My darling, can't you tell me what it is? Did you ever love him?" "Oh, I loved him! I loved him! I gave up all I had to him. Lenny, he thinks my love was his ruin ... he wants to be happy and good, and he thinks he can't be either if he loves me ... he says-- 'And throughout all eternity I forgive you, you forgive me.'" "My poor old Janey, I'm going to carry you upstairs." "I can walk," and she tried to stand, but he had only just time to catch her. "I'm going to carry you. Poor, poor Janey--see what a big baby you are." He carried her up the rickety stairs, into her room, laying her on the bed. "Would you like to undress?" "No--no--Lenny, don't leave me." He was in despair. "Janey, dearest, I wish you'd tell me what's happened. I can't comfort you properly when I don't know. Do you really mean to say that you love Quentin Lowe?"