But the notion that, except during this one evening, his rival would have free access to the inn, and would spend pleasant hours there, and would take Wenna with him for walks along the coast, maddened him. He dared not go down to the village for fear of seeing these two together. He walked about the grounds or went away over to the cliffs, torturing his heart with imagining Roscorla's opportunities. And once or twice he was on the point of going straight down to Eglosilyan, and calling on Wenna, before Roscorla's face, to be true to her own heart, and declare herself free from this old and hateful entanglement. In these circumstances his grandmother was not a good companion for him. In her continual glorification of the self-will of the Trelyons, and her stories of the wild deeds they had done, she was unconsciously driving him to some desperate thing against his better judgment. "Why, grandmother," he said one day, "you hint that I am a nincompoop because I don't go and carry off that girl and marry her against her will. Is that what you mean by telling me of what the men did in former days? Well, I can tell you this, that it would be a deal easier for me to try that than not to try it. The difficulty is in holding your hand. But what good would you do, after all? The time has gone by for that sort of thing. I shouldn't like to have on my hands a woman sulking because she was married by force. Besides, you can't do these mad freaks now: there are too many police-courts about." "By force? No," the old lady said. "The girls I speak of were as glad to run away as the men, I can tell you, and they did it, too, when their relations were against the match." "Of course, if both he and she are agreed, the way is as smooth now as it was then: you don't need to care much for relations." "But, Harry, you don't know what a girl thinks," this dangerous old lady said. "She has her notions of duty, and her respect for her parents, and all that; and if the man only went and reasoned with her he would never carry the day; but just as she comes out of a ball-room some night, when she is all aglow with fun and pleasure, and ready to become romantic with the stars, you see, and the darkness, then just show her a carriage, a pair of horses, a marriage license, and her own maid to accompany her, and see what will happen! Why, she'll hop into the carriage like a dicky-bird: then she'll have a bit of a cry, and then she'll recover, and be mad with the delight of escaping from those behind her. That's how to win a girl, man! The sweet-hearts of these days think too much, that's about it: it's all done by argument between them." "You're a wicked old woman, grandmother," said Trelyon with a laugh. "You oughtn't to put such notions into the head of a well-conducted young man like me."