Alban made no reply, but he helped her to the bank and they crossed the lawn together. In the light of the veranda, they recognized Forrest, carrying a motor cap in his hand and wearing a dust coat which almost touched his heels. He had evidently dined and was full of the story of his mishap. "Hello, Anna, here's a game," he began, "my old fumigator's broke down and I'm on the cold, cold world. Never had such a time in my life. Shoved the thing from Taplow and nothing but petrol to drink--eh, what, can't you see me? I say, Anna, you'll have to put me up to-night. There isn't a billiard table to let in the town, and I can't sleep on the grass--eh, what--you wouldn't put me out to graze, now would you?" He entered the dining-room with them, and they stood about the table while the argument was continued. "Billy says the nag--what-d'yer-call-it's gone lame in the off fore-leg. She went down at the distance like a filly that's been hocussed. There were the two of us in the bally dust--and look at my fingers where I burned 'em with matches. After that a parson came along in a gig. I asked him if he had a whisky-and-soda aboard and he didn't quote the Scriptures. We couldn't get the blighter to move, and I ground the handle like Signor Gonedotti of Saffron Hill in the parish of High Holborn. You'd have laughed fit to split if you'd have been there, Anna--and, oh my Sammy, what a thing it is to have a thirst and to bring it home with you. Do I see myself before a mahogany one or do I not--eh, what? Do I dream, do I sleep, or is visions about? You'll put us up, of course, Anna? I've told Billy as much and he's shoving the car into the coach-house now." He stalked across the room and without waiting to be asked helped himself to a whisky-and-soda. Anna looked quickly at Alban as though to say, "You must help me in this." Twenty-four hours ago she would not have protested at this man's intrusion, but to-night the glamor of the love-dream was still upon her, the idyll of her romance echoed in her ears and would admit no other voice. "Willy," she said firmly, "you know that you cannot stop. My father would never forgive me. He has absolutely forbidden you the house." He turned round, the glass still in his hand and the soda from the siphon running in a fountain over the table-cloth. "Your father! He's in Paris, ain't he? Are we going to telegraph about it? What nonsense you are talking, Anna!" "I am telling you what I mean. You cannot stop here and you must go to the hotel immediately." He looked at her quite gravely, cast an ugly glance upon Alban and instantly understood.