I did not disdain his arm. Whatever befell new, he was mine, all mine. The wind was in our faces, the moonbeams flashed on the water. Colour came to my cheeks, and the breeze ruffled the hair which had gone so long without Susan’s brush and comb. As we stamped over the stones we might have been a boy and a girl escaping on a frolic. A few hundreds of yards from the beck we were able to climb the low slope, and to pad along mutely over the grass. At the first brambles we turned inland, and descended softly into the ravine. We pulled up behind a high bush. "Hush!" I whispered. "Not a sound. Don’t move or speak till I give the word." Through the thin autumn foliage, by the pale light of the moon, we could see a woman’s figure across the beck. It was Susan, seated upon a modest bag. I did not explain to Ruddington. I did not even tell him who the woman was. Two or three minutes passed; and then the silver chime of Bérigny proclaimed half-past eight. Susan drew out her little handkerchief, and wiped away a tear. My heart went out to her. There was no Gibson; and I began to hope our task would be easy. But we heard a sudden sound of snapping branches and hurrying feet; and Gibson broke through into the light. Susan jumped up to meet him. "Oh, Tom!" she wailed. "I began to think you wasn’t coming." Ruddington touched my hand. "Oughtn’t we to go away from here?" he whispered. "No!" I whispered back, shaking my fist. "We oughtn’t." "I was out with a blooming car," explained Gibson. "Georgette brought your letter at half-past three, but I didn’t get it till seven." "Thank goodness you wasn’t away for the night!" exclaimed Susan fervently. "Well, I’m here, anyway," said Gibson. "Not that I expect it’s going to do me any good. You promised you’d settle me this week, on or off, one way or another. I suppose you’ve only brought me here to give me the chuck?" Susan did not reply. "What’ve you got there?" asked Gibson with a jump. He had caught sight of Susan’s bag. "It’s my things," said Susan. "Oh, Tom, I want you to take me away!" "Take you away?" echoed Gibson, thunderstruck. "Yes, yes, take me away! Now, this minute. Oh, Tom, don’t say you won’t!" "But where can I take you to?" asked astounded Gibson. "To Granpong." "Not me!" said Susan’s gallant, with emphasis. "I suppose you think that at a caffy-resterong you can do anything? Don’t make no mistake. They’re the properest lot at Granpong that ever I struck in all my natural. Why, just to think of Madum opening the door, and me bringing in a young lady at midnight! Not me!" "Oh, Tom, don’t be such a beast!" moaned Susan. "The very idea! You know quite well, you do, that I’d never go to the same house. I’d die first. But, oh Tom, you must take me somewhere. We might go to the clergyman’s wife."