"But surely, Miss Brettan," he said, "there must be someone who can serve you a little--someone who can put you in the way of an occupation?"
Immediately she regretted having proclaimed so much as she had.
"My father lived very quietly, and socially he was hardly a popular man. For several reasons I wouldn't like my distress to be talked about by people who knew him."
"Those people are your credentials, though," he urged; "you can't afford to turn your back on them. If you'll be guided by advice, you will swallow your pride."
"I couldn't; I made the resolve to stand alone, and I shall stick to it. Besides, you are wrong in supposing that any one of them would exert himself for me to any extent; my father did not have--was not intimate enough with anybody."
A difficult woman to aid, thought Kincaid pityingly. A notion had flashed across his mind, at her reference to the kind of employment she had desired, and the announcement of her parentage was strengthening it; but there must be something to go upon, something more than mere assertion.
"If a post turned up, who is there to speak for you?"
"Messrs. Pattenden; I believe they'd speak for me willingly."
"No; but the manager would see anyone who went to him about me, I'm almost sure."
"You need friends, you know," he said; "you're very awkwardly placed without any."
"Oh, I do know! To have no friends is a crime; one's helpless without them. And a woman's helplessness is the best of reasons why no help should be extended to her. But it sounds a merciless argument, doctor--horribly merciless, at the beginning!"
"It's a merciless life. Look here, Miss Brettan, I don't want to beat about the bush: you're in a beastly hole, and if I can pull you out of it I shall be glad--for your own sake, and for the sake of your dead father. It's like this, though; the only thing I can see my way to involves the comfort of someone else. You were talking about a place as companion; I can't live at home now, and my mother wants one."
"If I were to take the responsibility of recommending you, it's probable she'd engage you; I think you'd suit her, but----Well, it's rather a large order!"
"Oh, you should never be sorry!" she cried. "You shall never be sorry for trusting me, if you will!"