"She won't be back for a good half-hour! I've been longing for a chance of talking to you alone," and proceeded to cross-question as before stated. "Yes, you _are_ scared." Delia repeated. "When anyone enters the room suddenly you jump and look round as if you expected to see a policeman and a pair of handcuffs. It makes me quite nervous even to watch you. And," her voice sank to a deeper note, "you look ill, Val! _What is it_?" Lessing bent forward in his chair, his hands clasped loosely together between his knees; there was a look in his eyes which brought the colour surging into Delia's cheeks. "I can tell you honestly, Delia, that I have done nothing to make me fear a policeman or handcuffs, but--I _am_ worried!" For a passing moment he struggled with the temptation to confess the truth, but this point had been mentally argued time and again, always with the same conclusion. To confide his story would be to include his confidante in his own danger, since it was hardly possible that he would not feel called upon to take active steps against the Brethren. "I can't tell you the why and wherefore, I wish I could, but I can assure you that I have no cause to be ashamed." "Oh, bother ashamed!" cried Delia hotly. "_Why_ are you scared? Has anyone been--er--nasty to you, Val? A man in the office--jealous of you because you have got on so well. Forged a cheque and pretended it was you, or put money in your drawer like they do in books, you know, when they have a grudge? Is it something like that, and you are afraid in case they suspect you and send you away?" The words were so deliciously naive and girlish that Lessing was obliged to laugh; they were also so transparently eloquent of the speaker's interest and concern for himself that a great pang rent his heart at the vision of life as it might be. Life with Delia--with Delia's children, a happy, breezy, family life, repeating the atmosphere of the corner house in some flowery suburban cottage. Oh, how good it seemed, how full and satisfying! What a joy to a tired man to have that haven to which to return at the close of his day's work. Time had been when he had scoffed at the smug security of suburban life; had pitied the lot of the man who spent his evenings playing with his children and mowing a miniature lawn, but in the light of the last month's experience, he asked nothing better of fate than to find himself in a precisely similar position. "No, Delia, no!" he cried ardently, "there is no business trouble. It's--er--something outside. Don't speak of it, please. I want to tell you, and I ought not. It's dear and sweet of you to care. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me the last few weeks, just to be able--"