’All right.  I’ll wait for them.  I want to see Mrs. Sarratt before I start.  You may get me a cup of tea, if you like.’

Mrs. Simpson disappeared with alacrity, and Farrell crossed the hall to the drawing-room.  He turned on the light as he opened the door, and was at once aware of Nelly’s slight form on the sofa.  She did not move, and something in her attitude—­some rigidity that he fancied—­alarmed him.  He took a few steps, and then saw that there was no cause for alarm.  She was only asleep, poor child, profoundly, pathetically asleep.  Her utter unconsciousness, the delicate hand and arm lying over the edge of the sofa, and the gleam of her white forehead under its muffling cloud of hair, moved him strangely.  He retreated as quietly as he could, and almost ran into Mrs. Simpson bringing a tray.  He beckoned her into a small room which he used as his own den.  But he had hardly explained the situation, before there were sounds in the drawing-room, and Nelly opened the door, which he had closed behind him.  He had forgotten to turn out the light, and its glare had awakened her.

‘Oh, Sir William—­’ she said, in bewilderment—­’Did you come in just now?’

He explained his proceedings, retaining the hand she gave him, and looking down upon her with an impulsive and affectionate pity.

‘You were asleep.  I disturbed you,’ he said, remorsefully.

‘Oh no, do come in.’

She led the way into the drawing-room.

’I wanted—­specially—­to tell you some things I heard at Aldershot to-day, which I thought might cheer you,’ said Farrell.

And sitting beside her, while Mrs. Simpson lit a fire and spread a white tea-table, he repeated various stories of the safe return of ‘missing’ men which he had collected for her that morning, including the narrative of an escaped prisoner, who, although badly wounded, had managed to find his way back, at night, from the neighbourhood of Brussels, through various hairbreadth adventures and disguises, and after many weeks to the British lines.  He brought the tale to her, as an omen of hope, together with his other gleanings; and under the influence of his cheerful voice and manner, Nelly’s aspect changed; the light came back into her eyes, which hung upon him, as Farrell talked on, persuading himself, as he persuaded her.  So that presently, when tea came in, and the kettle boiled, she was quite ready to pour out for him, to ask him questions about his night journey, and thank him timidly for all his kindness.

’But this—­this is too grand for us!’—­she said, looking round her.  ’We must find a lodging soon.’

He begged her earnestly to let the flat be of use to her, and she, embarrassed and unwilling, but dreading to hurt his feelings, was compelled at last to submit to a week’s stay.

Then he got up to go; and she was very sorry to say good-bye to him.  As for him, in her wistful and gracious charm, she had never seemed to him more lovely.  How she became grief!—­in her measure reserve!