‘What have you been doing now?’ she asked him, wondering, and, as Hester thought, shrinking back a little.

’It’s from Cicely’—­he said apologetically.  ’She made me bring it.  She declared she’d sampled the sofa here,—­’ he pointed to an ancient one in a corner—­’and it would disgrace a dug-out.  It’s her affair—­don’t blame me!’

Nelly looked bewildered.

‘But I’m not ill now.  I’m getting well.’

‘If you only knew what a ghost you look still,’ he said vehemently, ’you’d let Cicely have her little plot.  This used to stand in my mother’s sitting-room.  It was bought for her.  Cicely had it put to rights.’

As he spoke, he made a hasty mental note that Cicely would have to be coached in her part.

Nelly examined the object.  It was a luxurious adjustable couch, covered in flowery chintz, with a reading-desk, and well supplied with the softest cushions.

She laughed, but there was rather a flutter in her laugh.

‘It’s awfully kind of Cicely.  But you know—­’

Her eyes turned on Farrell with a sudden insistence.  Hester had just left the room, and her distant voice—­with other voices—­could be heard in the garden.

’—­You know you mustn’t—­all of you—­spoil me so, any more.  I’ve got my life to face.  You mean it so kindly—­but—­’

She sank into a chair by the window that Farrell had placed for her, and her aspect struck him painfully.  There was so much weakness in it; and yet a touch of fierceness.

‘I’ve got my life to face,’ she repeated—­’and you mustn’t, Sir William—­you mustn’t let me get too dependent on you—­and Cicely—­and Hester.  Be my friend—­my true friend—­and help me—­’

She bent forward, and her pale lips just breathed the rest—­

’Help me—­to endure hardness!  That’s what I want—­for George’s sake—­and my own.  I must find some work to do.  In a few months perhaps I might be able to teach—­but there are plenty of things I could do now.  I want to be just—­neglected a little—­treated as a normal person!’

She smiled faintly at him as he stood beside her.  He felt himself rebuked—­abashed—­as though he had been in some sort an intruder on her spiritual freedom; had tried to purchase her dependence by a kindness she did not want.  That was not in her mind, he knew.  But it was in Hester’s.  And there was not wanting a certain guilty consciousness in his own.

But he threw it off.  Absurdity!  She did need his friendship; and he had done what he had done without the shadow of a corrupt motive—­en tout bien, tout honneur.