Miss Pettigrew looked at me in a curious way which made me feel hot and very uncomfortable even before I understood what she was thinking about. Her eyes twinkled most brilliantly. The smile which had hovered about her lips before broadened. I recollected what the Canon told me the night before. Miss Pettigrew had suggested marriage for Lalage. I had at once thought of Vittie. Miss Pettigrew was not thinking of Vittie. I felt myself getting red in the face as she looked at me. “I couldn’t,” I said at last. “This influenza has completely unstrung me. I shouldn’t have the nerve. You must admit, Miss Pettigrew, that it would require nerve.” “I’m not suggesting your doing it to-day,” said Miss Pettigrew. “Nor any other day,” I said. “I shouldn’t be able to screw myself up to the pitch. I’m not that kind of man at all. What you want is some one more of the Young Lochinvar type, or a buccaneer. They’re all dashing men who shrink from nothing. Why not advertise for a buccaneer?” “I don’t suppose she’d marry you if you did ask her,” said Miss Pettigrew. “I am sure she wouldn’t, so we needn’t go on talking about that. Won’t you let me ring and get you a cup of tea? They make quite good tea in this hotel!” “It’s too early for tea, and I want to discuss this business of Lalage’s seriously. The position has become quite impossible.” “It’s been that for more than a week--but it still goes on. That’s the worst of impossible positions. Nobody can ever stop them. Titherington said it was impossible the day before he got influenza. You don’t know Titherington, nor does the Canon. But if you did you’d realize that he’s not the kind of man to let an impossible position alone and yet he was baffled. I had letters yesterday morning from Vittie and O’Donoghue asking me to cooperate with them in suppressing Lalage They see that the position is impossible just as plainly as you do. But they can’t do anything. In fact they’ve gone to bed.” “I’m not going to bed,” said Miss Pettigrew. “I’m going to bring Lalage home with me.” “How?” “I rather hoped,” said Miss Pettigrew, “that you might have some suggestion that would help us.” “I made my only suggestion to Titherington a week ago and it didn’t come off. There’s no use my making it again!” “What was it? Perhaps I could work it out.” “It wasn’t much of a suggestion really. It was only Hilda’s mother.” “I’ve wired to her and she’ll be here to-morrow. I’ve no doubt that she’ll carry off Hilda, but she has no authority over Lalage.” “Nobody has,” said the Canon despondingly. “I’ve said that all along.” “What about the Provost of Trinity College?” I said. “He tackled her over the bishops. You might try him.” “He won’t interfere,” said the Canon. “I asked him.”