him an earnest desire to be good through the
example of this good woman. He would try henceforward to be worthy of
the things she had revealed. Quietly, without hysterical prayers or
banging of drums, he underwent conversion. He was saved.

"That milk," said she, "need not be wasted. Take it, Signor Carella, and
persuade Mr. Herriton to drink."

Gino obeyed her, and carried the child's milk to Philip. And Philip
obeyed also and drank.

"Is there any left?"

"A little," answered Gino.

"Then finish it." For she was determined to use such remnants as lie
about the world.

"Will you not have some?"

"I do not care for milk; finish it all."

"Philip, have you had enough milk?"

"Yes, thank you, Gino; finish it all."

He drank the milk, and then, either by accident or in some spasm of
pain, broke the jug to pieces. Perfetta exclaimed in bewilderment. "It
does not matter," he told her. "It does not matter. It will never be
wanted any more."

Chapter 10

"He will have to marry her," said Philip. "I heard from him this
morning, just as we left Milan. He finds he has gone too far to back
out. It would be expensive. I don't know how much he minds--not as much
as we suppose, I think. At all events there's not a word of blame in the
letter. I don't believe he even feels angry. I never was so completely
forgiven. Ever since you stopped him killing me, it has been a vision of
perfect friendship. He nursed me, he lied for me at the inquest, and at
the funeral, though he was crying, you would have thought it was my son
who had died. Certainly I was the only person he had to be kind to;
he was so distressed not to make Harriet's acquaintance, and that he
scarcely saw anything of you. In his letter he says so again."

"Thank him, please, when you write," said Miss Abbott, "and give him my
kindest regards."

"Indeed I will." He was surprised that she could slide away from the
man so easily. For his own part, he was bound by ties of almost alarming
intimacy. Gino had the southern knack of friendship. In the intervals
of business he would pull out Philip's life, turn it inside out,
remodel it, and advise him how to use it for the best. The sensation was
pleasant, for he was a kind as well as a skilful operator. But Philip
came away feeling that he had not a secret corner left. In that
very letter Gino had again implored him, as a refuge from domestic
difficulties, "to marry Miss Abbott, even if her dowry is small." A