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 were trembling in a way that had come over him lately, and the smile warmed her, but at the same time weakened her. There was a comfort and a kindliness in it that made her want to cry.

Once inside the study, she found that the drawer of the cabinet was jammed again, as it had been on that first night. While she tugged at it, she heard him outside the door saying good-night one by one to the choir. Putting down the music, she began again to struggle with the drawer, and then suddenly, as if the effort was the last she could make, she collapsed on the floor and began to weep.

She heard the door open and she heard the Reverend Castor's deep, warm voice saying, "Why, Naomi, what's the matter?"

She answered him, without looking up. "It's the drawer," she said. "It's stuck again . . . and I'm . . . I'm so tired."

He went over to the cabinet and this time he was forced to struggle with it.

"It's really too heavy for you, my dear girl . . . I'll fix it myself in the morning." He replaced the music and when he attempted to close the drawer again it stuck fast. "Now it won't close at all. But I can fix it. I'm handy about such things."

His hands were trembling, and he looked white and tired. He talked with the air of a man desperately hiding pits of silence. When he turned, Naomi still sat on the floor, her body bent forward. Her worn, rain-soaked hat had fallen forward a little, and she was sobbing. He sat down in the great stuffed leather chair. It was very low, so that he was almost on a level with her. 