No more improper, the whole thing, in its essentials than a bathe, let us say, from the same large cave on a rocky beach, which in the eyes of the world is nothing; but far, far more thrilling, for the very reason of those same censorious eyes. For whereas in the estimation of the two principals the whole affair was as innocent as innocence can well be and they had gained rather than lost in self-respect, in the eyes of the world they had lost everything. The world will never consent to believe the best when it has a chance of believing the worst. It had been, therefore, a Very Great Adventure. And the consequence was that, when at last they faced each other across the breakfast-table, blushing modestly beneath the landlady’s unconcealed interest, Mr. Priestley had an uncanny feeling that he really was married to this delightful young woman and that it was all exceedingly pleasant. It quite needed the presence of that handcuff (which, by an ingenious device attached to his braces, he had succeeded in tethering out of sight up his sleeve) to remind him that he was, in fact, not a happy honeymooner without a care in the world, but a fugitive from justice, a clapper of constables into cupboards, a man-slaughterer, and stuffed so full of cares that it was a wonder his second cup of coffee could effect an entrance. Nevertheless, one anxiety persisted in Mr. Priestley’s mind, in spite of his pleasurable excitement, and the bright chatter of his adopted young wife; he was on tenterhooks to see a newspaper. Sandersworth, it appeared, was not favoured in the matter of newspapers on Sundays. They had, the landlady explained at some length, to be brought specially over from Manstead, and, of course, that took time. Not before ten they couldn’t be expected, and sometimes it was nearer half-past. She took in _The News of the World_, she did, and Mr. Bracey (such was the pseudonym which Mr. Priestley had cunningly adopted with his married state) should see it as soon as it came, before she ever so much as opened it herself. Mr. Bracey, né Priestley, asked her to buy a sample of each paper available, and concealed his impatience as best he could. “And now,” said Laura, when she had fulfilled her wifely duty of pouring out that second cup of coffee, “now, what’s the programme? What are we going to do to-day?” “Well,” said Mr. Priestley tentatively, “we can’t stay here, of course.” “Of course not,” Laura agreed, not without firmness. Mr. Priestley looked slightly disappointed, and then slightly ashamed of such unreasonable optimism. “What do you suggest, then?”