"I leave that to Morton these days. My time's taken up in making them miserable at the works." The girl laughed. "I can just see you," she said. "I suppose you stick your chin out and growl at them like you do at me when you're cross?" "Something the same way," admitted Leslie, "only not quite so violent. You see, they're not often as irritating as you are, Nancy." She looked at him mischievously, and then suddenly clasped her hands. "Oh, George," she said, "I'd quite forgotten. Are you doing anything next Wednesday?" "Nothing more than usual," said Leslie. "About eight hours' work." "Oh, that's all right then. It's father's and mother's wedding-day, and the old dears want to celebrate it in some way. I suggested that we should go for a motor picnic to Beechwood--just the three of us, and get you to drive us. Don't you think it's a lovely idea? You know there's a dear old church there, where Cardinal Wolsey was married or died or did something, and you and I can get away together after lunch and have a look at it. Both father and mother don't care for that sort of thing, and they won't mind my going with you. You know father's taken quite a fancy to you since you came round that day and showed him the new car." Leslie leaned back in his chair and looked at her with a kind of amused gravity. Then he shook his head. "Things can't go on like this, Nancy," he said. Her dark blue eyes opened innocently. "Can't go on like what?" she inquired. "I mean I can't go on deceiving your people in this way." Nancy drew back, pouting. "Oh, George dear, I thought we'd settled all that." Leslie smiled. "You settled it, Nancy--I didn't. But at the best it was only to be a temporary arrangement. Well, in my opinion, the time has come to end it." "But we can't end it, dear," protested Nancy, helping herself delicately to a chocolate éclair. "Why not?" asked Leslie. "I can go to your father and ask him whether he has any objection to me as a son-in-law. If he has--well, at least we shall know where we are, and then you can make up your mind what you're going to do." "Now you're being horrid," said Nancy. "You know very well father won't let me marry you. He thinks, because you've made your money yourself, and because you run a motor-car business, that--that----" "That I'm not a gentleman," finished Leslie, smiling good-naturedly. "Well, I can't help that, Nancy. Perhaps he's right. My point is that it doesn't alter the question. If you're going to marry me, you'll have to do it some day either with or without your father's consent." "There's no hurry," protested Nancy weakly. "Not the least," admitted Leslie, "but, on the other hand, there's no reason for waiting. The business is bringing me in an excellent income, and we're only wasting both our lives." Nancy stirred her tea, and looked at him sorrowfully.