"It's so absurdly late. George, you _are_ funny! Suppose somebody came by who knew us?" He opened his eyes. "And why not? But see! there isn't a carriage, and hardly a person, in sight. Just a minute!" Most unwillingly Letty let herself be persuaded. It seemed to her a foolish and extravagant thing to do; and there was now no need for either folly or extravagance. Since her engagement she had dropped a good many of the small audacities of the social sort she had so freely allowed herself before it. It was as though, indeed, now that these audacities had served their purpose, some stronger and perhaps inherited instincts emerged in her, obscuring the earlier self. George was sometimes astonished by an ultra-conventional note, of which certainly he had heard nothing in their first days of intimacy at Malford. However, she sat down beside him, protesting. But he had no sooner stolen her hand, than the moonlight showed her a dark, absent look creeping over his face. And to her amazement he began to talk about the House of Commons, about the Home Secretary's speech, of all things in the world! He seemed to be harking back to Mr. Dowson's arguments, to some of the stories the Home Secretary had told of those wretched people who apparently enjoy dying of overwork and phosphorus, and white-lead, who positively will die of them, unless the inspectors are always harrying them. He still held her hand, but she saw he was not thinking of her; and a sudden pique rose in her small mind. Generally, she accepted his love-making very coolly--just as it came, or did not come. But to-night she asked herself with irritation--for what had he led her into his silly escapade, but to make love to her? And now here were her fingers slipping out of his, while he harangued her on things she knew and cared nothing about, in a voice and manner he might have addressed to anybody! "Well, I don't understand--I really _don't!_" she interrupted sharply. "I thought you were all against the Government--I thought you didn't believe a word they say!" He laughed. "The difference between them and us, darling, is only that _they_ think the world can be mended by Act of Parliament, and _we_ think it can't. Do what you will, _we_ say the world is, and must be, a wretched hole for the majority of those that live in it; _they_ suppose they can cure it by quack meddlings and tyrannies." He looked straight before him, absorbed, and she was struck with the harsh melancholy of his face. What on earth had he kept her here for to talk this kind of talk! "George, I really _must_ go!" she began, flushing, and drawing her hand away. Instantly he turned to her, his look brightening and melting. "Must you? Well, the world sha'n't be a wretched hole for us, shall it, darling? We'll make a little nest in it--we'll forget what we can't help--we'll be happy as long as the fates let us--won't we, Letty?" His arm slipped round behind her. He caught her hands.