“It’s not fair!” she cried, “it’s not fair.” To her mortification, the tears of self-pity sprang to her eyes, and as she fiercely tried to brush them away, to her greater anger, continued to creep down her cheeks. “It was nine years ago,” she protested, “I was a child. I’ve been punished enough.” She raised her face frankly to his, speaking swiftly, bitterly. “Of course, I want to get away!” she cried. “Of course, I want friends. I’ve never had a friend. I’ve always been alone. I’m tired, tired! I hate this business. I never know how much I hate it until the chance comes to get away--and I can’t.” She stopped, but without lowering her head or moving her eyes from his. “This time,” said the man quietly, “you’re going to get away from it.” “I can’t,” repeated the girl, “you can’t help me!” Winthrop smiled at her confidently. “I’m going to try,” he said. “No, please!” begged the girl. Her voice was still shaken with tears. She motioned with her head toward the room behind her. “These are my people,” she declared defiantly, as though daring him to contradict her. “And they are good people! They’ve tried to be good friends to me, and they’ve been true to me.” Winthrop came toward her and stood beside her, so close that he could have placed his hand upon her shoulder. He wondered, whimsically, if she knew how cruel she seemed in appealing with her tears, her helplessness and loveliness to what was generous and chivalric in him; and, at the same time, by her words, treating him as an interloper and an enemy. “That’s all right,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t prevent my being a good friend to you, too, does it? Or,” he added, his voice growing tense and conscious--“my being true to you? My sisters will be here tomorrow,” he announced briskly. Vera had wearily dropped her arms upon the table and lowered her head upon them. From a place down in the depths she murmured a protest. “No,” contradicted Winthrop cheerfully, “this time you are going to win. You’ll have back of you, If I do say it, two of the best women God ever made. Only, now, you must do as I say.” There was a pause. “Will you?” he begged. Vera raised her head slowly, holding her hand across her eyes. There was a longer silence, and then she looked up at him and smiled pathetically, gratefully, and nodded. “Good!” cried Winthrop. “No more spooks,” he laughed, “no more spirit rappings.”