“Exactly,” said Mr. Priestley gravely. “I have made all the necessary arrangements, and I have a special licence in my pocket. You are going to marry me at the registry office in Albemarle Street at ten o’clock to-morrow morning—if we are both still at liberty!” Chapter XVII. Awkward Predicament of Some Conspirators On Wednesday Cynthia had taken another trip to London. She made no secret of it. She said quite plainly that she wanted to get away from this atmosphere of intrigue and anxiety, and she was therefore going up to see Edith Marryott, whom she hadn’t seen for simply _ages_. It is to be regretted that Cynthia had no intention whatever of going within two miles of Edith Marryott. She took Alan with her, gave him ten shillings at Paddington, and told him to meet her there on the 5.49. Alan made a bee-line for the nearest call-box and had the ineffable joy of arranging to take a chorus-girl out to lunch. That the chorus-girl afterwards firmly insisted on paying both for her own lunch and for Alan’s too was a point which need not be laboured in subsequent conversations with Colebrook and Thomson minor. Alan squandered five and ninepence of his ten shillings afterwards on a seat at the Jollity _matinée_, and later waited at the stage-door, thrilled to the soles of his boots. His beaker of heady pleasure was completed after that by being allowed to take his chorus-girl out to tea _and_ pay for it, though the A.B.C. to which she insisted upon going did not seem quite to fit. The lady, however, assured him gravely that when not refreshing themselves with champagne and oysters, chorus-girls invariably go to A.B.C.’s, and it was all quite in order, and he accepted this information from her still excitingly grease-painted lips. Alan had the day of his life, and caught the 7.15 back to Duffley. Cynthia and Alan were not missed at Duffley. Monica, for instance, was far too busy taking an intelligent interest in the workings of George’s car to miss them. Not in George himself, of course not, though he was interesting on the subject of cars, George was. And actresses. And the relations of a man and a girl these days. “Jolly nice, feeling one can be real pals with a girl nowadays. Rotten it must have been for those old Victorians, eh? What I mean is, a man likes to feel a girl can be a sort of _pal_, so to speak. Jolly to go out with and all that. Of course you can’t be pals with all girls, though. Fact is, I’ve never really met another one beside you that I could, Monica. Comic when you come to think of it, in a way, isn’t it? Here we are, just pals, all merry and bright, going out in the old bus and having a good time, and everything’s absolutely ripping. I say, Monica, I’m dashed glad you came down here, you know. I was getting bored stiff with Duffley, and that silly stunt of Guy’s was worse still. I mean to say, what I really wanted, I suppose, was a _pal_.”