We went into the National Gallery and wandered round for an hour. She knew a great deal more about the pictures than I did, and more than once made me sit down by her side to look at one of her favorite masterpieces. "I want to go to Bond Street now," she said when we left, "I think it will be quite all right at this time in the afternoon, and there are some weird things to be seen there. Do you mind?" We walked again along Pall Mall. Passing the Carlton she suddenly clutched at my arm. A little stifled cry escaped her; the color left her cheeks. We increased our speed. Presently she breathed a sigh of relief. "Heavens, what an escape!" she exclaimed. "Do you think he saw me?" "Do you mean the young man who was getting out of the taxicab?" She nodded. "One of our victims," she murmured; "daddy's victim, rather. I didn't do a thing to him." "I am quite sure he didn't see you," I told her. "He was struggling to find change." She sighed once more. The incident seemed to have shaken her. "The worst of our sort of life is," she confided, "that it must soon come to an end. We have victims all over the place! One of them is bound to turn up and be disagreeable sooner or later." "I should say, then," I remarked, "that the moment is opportune for a registrar's office and a trip to Abyssinia." "And leave daddy to face the music alone?" she objected. "It couldn't be done." We turned into a tea shop and sat in a remote corner of the place. I had made up my mind to say no more to her that day, but the opportunity was irresistible. There was a little desultory music, a hum of distant conversation, and Eve herself was thoughtful. I pleaded with her earnestly. "Eve," I begged, "if only you would listen to me seriously! I simply cannot bear the thought of the danger you are in all the time. Give it up, dear, this moment--to-day! We'll lead any sort of life you like. We'll wander all over Europe--America, if you say the word. I am quite well enough off to take you anywhere you choose to go and still see that your father is quite comfortable. You've made such a difference in such a short time!" She was certainly quieter and her tone was softer. She avoided looking at me. "Perhaps," she said very gently, "this feeling you speak of would pass away just as quickly." "There isn't any fear of that!" I assured her. "As I care for you now, Eve, I must care for you always; and you know it's torture for me to think of you in trouble--perhaps in disgrace. As my wife you shall be safe. You'll have me always there to protect you. I should like to take you even farther afield for a time--to India or Japan, if you like--and then come back and start life all over again." "You're rather a dear!" she murmured softly. "I will tell you something at any rate. I do care for you--a little--better than I've ever cared for any one else; but I can't decide quite so quickly."