He looked as though he were seeing something in Little Ann's face
which might not have revealed itself so clearly to the more normal
gaze.

He moved slightly nearer to her. He was a tall man, and had to look
down at her.

"What is your name?" he asked anxiously. "Names trouble me."

It was Ann who drew a little nearer to him now. She had to look up,
and the soft, absorbed kindness in her eyes might, Tembarom thought,
have soothed a raging lion, it was so intent on its purpose.

"My name is Ann Hutchinson; but never you mind about it now," she
said. "I'll tell it to you again. Let Mr. Tembarom take you up-stairs
to bed. You'll be better in the morning." And because his hollow eyes
rested on her so fixedly she put her hand on his wet sleeve.

"You're wet through," she said. "That won't do."

He looked down at her hand and then at her face again.

"Help me," he pleaded, "just help me. I don't know what's happened.
Have I gone mad? "

"No," she answered; "not a bit. It'll all come right after a while;
you'll see."

"Will it, will it?" he begged, and then suddenly his eyes were full of
tears. It was a strange thing to see him in his bewildered misery try