“Forget you!” Tony laughed. “Why never! I!” But then suddenly the aged man and his coach bumped them together and then flung them apart and then bumped them again so that no more words were possible. The cab had turned the corner. The house, with its crooked door, was before them. In the hall there were lights; underneath the stairs there was a lamp and against the wall opposite the door there were candles. In the middle of the hall Janet was standing waiting; she was dressed in some dark blue stuff and a little round dark blue hat, beneath it her hair shone gloriously. She held a bag in her hand and a small cloak over her arm. Tony came forward with a stride and she stepped a little way to meet him. Then he caught her in his arms, and her head went back a little so that the light of the lamp caught her hair and flung a halo around it. Miss Minns was in the background in a state of quite natural agitation. It was all very quiet and restrained. There seemed to Maradick to fall a very beautiful silence for a moment about them. The light, the colour, everything centred round those two, and the world stood still. Then Tony let go and she came forward to Maradick. She held out her hand and he took it in his, and he, suddenly, moved by some strange impulse, bent down and kissed it. She let it lie there for a moment and then drew it back, smiling. “It’s splendid of you, Mr. Maradick,” she said; “without you I don’t know what we’d have done, Tony and I.” And then she turned round to Tony and kissed him again. There was another pause, and indeed the two children seemed perfectly ready to stand like that for the rest of the day. Something practical must be done. “I think we ought to be making a move,” said Maradick. “The cab’s waiting outside and the train has to be caught, you know.” “Why, of course.” Janet broke away from Tony. “How silly we are! I’m so sorry, Miss Minns, have you got the bag with the toothbrush? It’s all we’ve got, you know, because we can buy things in Paris. Oh! Paris!” She drew a breath and stood there, her eyes staring, her hands on her hips, her head flung back. It really was amazing the way that she was taking it. There was no doubt or alarm at the possible consequences of so daring a step. It must be, Maradick thought, her ignorance of all that life must mean to her now, all the difference that it would have once this day was over, that saved her from fear. And yet there was knowledge as well as courage in her eyes, she was not altogether ignorant.