He put a hand over mine, and at that moment Alice Warrington turned from a rosebush she and Peter were pretending to examine, and saw me. She raised her eyebrows, and that gave me the idea. I put my free hand over Roger's and tried to put my soul into my eyes. "Don't move," I said. "Hold the position for a moment, Roger, and look desperately unhappy." "I am," he said. "Seeing you again brings it all back. Are they looking? Shall I kiss your hand?" I looked over. Alice and Peter were still staring. "Bend over," I said quickly, "and put your cheek against it. It's more significant and rather hopeless. I'll explain later." He did extremely well. He bent over passionately until his head was almost in my lap, and I could see how carefully his hair was brushed over a thin place at the crown. Thank goodness, Bill keeps his hair anyhow! "How's this?" he said in a muffled voice. "That's plenty." I'd made up my mind, and I meant to go through with it. But I felt like a fool. There's something about broad daylight that makes even real sentiment look idiotic. He sat up and looked into my eyes. "There are times," he said, raising his voice, "when I feel I can't stand it. I'm desperately--desperately unhappy, Clara." "We must make the best of things," I said, and let my eyes wander toward Alice and Peter. They had turned and were retreating swiftly through the garden. "Now," said Roger, sitting back and smoothing his hair, "what's it all about?" So I told him and explained my plan. Even now, when I never want to see him again, I must admit that Roger is a sport. He never turned a hair. "Of course I'll do it. It isn't as hard as you imagine. Our meeting like this revives the old fire. I'm mad about you, recklessly mad, and you're crazy about me. All right so far. But a thing like that won't throw much of a crimp into Carrie. Probably she expects it." "To-night," I explained, "we'll be together, but silent and moody. When we smile at their nonsense it is to be a forced smile. We're intent on ourselves. Do you see? And you might go to Carrie after dinner and tell her you think you'll go. You can't stand being near me. It's too painful. I'll talk to one of the men too." He looked rather uncomfortable. "Oh, I wouldn't do that, Clara. They wouldn't understand." "Not about you," I retorted coldly. "I'll merely indicate that Bill and I aren't hitting it off, and that a woman has a right to be happy. Then, when things happen, they'll remember what I said." He turned round his wicker chair so that he faced me. "When things happen?" he said. "What things?" "When we elope to-morrow night," I replied.