“Where will you go when you get to London?” he asked. “I know of some apartments—two rooms—I saw them the day before I came away. If they are still unlet, I shall rent them. But when we arrive I shall go straight to Sir William Rammage. I have business with him. He is very ill, Alfred, it was in the paper yesterday; but he will see me, and when he knows all——” “You will tell him nothing about me,” he said, in his slow determined voice. She looked up indignantly. “Alfred,” she answered, “I must tell him. I shall tell him that you love me; that I have won a true and noble heart, and that we are going through life together.” “You will tell him nothing,” Mr. Wimple repeated, with something like fright in his dull eyes. “If you did my uncle would hear of it, and would think I was mad.” He added the clause about his uncle as if he thought an explanation due to her. “Mad to marry me?” she asked. “Mad to think of marriage at all. He objects to it on principle.” “But if he knew how tenderly and truly I loved you——” “You must not say one word about it, to him or to any one,” came the firm hard voice. “Is it because you are—you are ashamed of loving me, Alfred?” she asked, quivering. “No. But it is my wish. That should be enough.” She was silent for a moment. “It is enough,” she answered slowly, “your wish shall be my law in this as in all things. But you will take me up to town?” she pleaded. “You can go to the Blue Lion, to Steggalls’, and tell them to drive you back to Liphook now.” “I have no money with me,” he said firmly. “It will go down to my account, darling,” she continued, as if she had not heard the interruption. “You can take the quarter to one train from Liphook to London; it stops at Witley. I will be on the platform, and we will go on together.” She ventured to stand now, and held out her hands again, almost entreatingly. “You will say nothing to Sir William?” “Alfred, you are my lord and master,” and she bowed her head on to her breast. But he was wholly untouched. “Very well,” he said, “I will drive back at once—there is not too much time—and meet you as you say. Good-bye.” He kissed her forehead, and as before, swiftly drew back again. “Will you order a waggonette for me too, Alfred?” she asked as she followed him to the door. “I shall want one to take me to the station. Tell them to put it all down to me.” He did not answer till the door was open, and he saw the dark trees against the sky, and the withered leaves beneath lying on the garden pathway. Then a smile crossed his lips, his face wore an air of relief, he looked like a free man. He crossed the threshold with a light step, and stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Good-bye,” he said. “I will order the waggonette. It is lovely weather. We shall enjoy the journey to town.”