The girl found herself flung headlong into a ditch, fortunately landing in the soft mud at the bottom. Alphonso’s fall was broken by the quick-set hedge which ripped his clothes to ribbons and scarred his face and hands. He picked himself up and went in search of the girl and found her as she was climbing unsteadily on to the permanent way. The train had pulled up with a jerk amidst a chaos of smashed gate and mangled motor-car. Fortunately, it was slowing at the closed gate at the time the collision occurred, otherwise these two young people presenting a fantastic appearance might have ended their promising careers. “Are you hurt?” were the first words she asked. His face was scratched and his clothes were torn but though he had by far the worse experience his was not the woe-begone appearance which the girl presented. She was caked with mud, a dab of mud was on her cheek, her hat was gone and her long brown hair was flying in all directions. The passengers of the “special” were perhaps more perturbed than its victims. “It is an accident. We have run into a motor-car,” reported the conductor. “Is anybody killed?” asked Sir Ralph in alarm. “No, sir, a young man and a young woman who are more frightened than hurt.” “Let us go and look at them,” said Lord Flanborough and stepped down to the permanent way. It is a truism that there is no such thing as a paternal instinct and he would have indeed been a wise father who recognized his child in such disarray. He was speechless for a moment. “Moya,” he gasped hollowly. “Moya! Great Heavens! What were you doing here?” He stared round at the scarecrow by her side and at sight of the young man, Sir Ralph, who had been struck dumb by the apparition, found his voice. “I see, I see,” he said bitterly. “You have the advantage of me,” said the young man, “for I have got a little piece of Hampshire in my eye.” The girl swung round to him fumbling for her handkerchief. “It is nothing, dear,” said the young man, blissfully unconscious of the identity of the well-fed gentleman who was regarding him so sternly. “But, darling, you might be blinded,” pleaded the girl; “please let me.” “Moya,” said Lord Flanborough in a pained tone, “may I ask what is the meaning of this?” “Oh, I want you to meet Mr. Blaxton,” said the girl going red and white. “Fonso, this is papa.” “I should be glad to see you,” said Fonso, groping wildly on the blind side of him. “‘Fonso’?” repeated the enraged Flanborough, “and who, may I ask, is Fonso?” She fastened back her unruly hair and rubbed her mud-stained cheek with her handkerchief before she replied. “I suppose it will come as a shock to you and a greater shock to Sir Ralph, but Fonso and I are going to be married,” she said. Alphonso Blaxton blinked at her. “I haven’t asked you yet,” he said.