“I daresay!” “You know I would!” “I don't.” “Try me.” “I will not.” Her voice grew more and more faint and forced. Her words and it were very unlike. “Don't go on like that, Alice. You're not being reasonable,” pleaded Richard. “Oh, do leave me alone!” “I won't leave you.” “As you please! It's nothing to me.” “Alice, why do you speak to me like that? Tell me what's wrong.” “Everything is wrong. Everybody is wrong. The whole world is wrong.” Her voice was a little stronger. She raised herself, and looked him in the face. “I hope not.” “I hope it is!” “Why should you?” “To think things were right would be too terrible! I say everything's wrong.” “What's to be done, then?” sighed Richard. “I must get out of it all.” “But how?” “There is only one way.” “What is that?” “Everybody knows.” “Alice,” cried Richard, nearly in despair like herself, “are you out of your mind?” “Pretty nearly.--Why shouldn't I be? There are plenty of us!” “Alice, if you won't tell me what is the matter with you, if you won't let me help you, I will sit down by you till the morning.” “What if I drop?” “Then I will carry you away. The sooner you drop the better.” Her resolution seemed to break. “I 'ain't eaten a mouthful to-day,” she said. “My poor girl! Promise me to wait till I come back. Here, put on my coat.” She was past resisting more, and allowed him to button his coat about her. But he was in great perplexity: where was he to get anything for her? And how was she to live till he brought it! It was terrible to think of! Alice with nothing to eat, and no refuge but a stone in the moonlight! This was what her religion had done for Alice! “Miss Wylder's God!” he said to himself with contempt. “He's well enough for the wind and the stars and the moonlight! but for human beings--for Alice--for creatures dying of hunger, what a mockery! If he were there, it would be a sickness to talk of him! Beauty is beauty, but for anything behind it--pooh!” He stood a moment hesitating. Alice swayed on her seat, and would have fallen. He caught her--and in the act remembered a little cottage, a hut rather, down a lane a short way off. He took her in his arms and started for it. She was dreadfully thin, but a strong man cannot walk very fast carrying a woman, however light she be, and she had half come to herself before he reached the cottage. “Richard, dear Richard!” she murmured at his ear, “where are you carrying me? Are you going to kill me, or are you taking me home with you? Do set me down. Where's Arthur? I will let you be good to me! I will! I can't hold out for ever!”