“You may laugh, Watts,” said Peter, “but such a request would have saved many a young fellow from ruin, and society from an occasional terrible occurrence which even my little social experience has shown me. And it would soon be so much a matter of course, that it would be no more than showing your ticket, to prove yourself entitled to a ride. It solves the problem of drunkenness. And that is all we can hope to do, till humanity is—” Then Peter, who had been looking at Leonore, smiled. “Is what?” asked Leonore. “The rest is in cipher,” said Peter, but if he had finished his sentence, it would have been, “half as perfect as you are.” After this last relay of callers had departed, it began to pour so nobly that Peter became hopeful once more. He wandered about, making a room-to-room canvass, in search of happiness, and to his surprise saw happiness descending the broad stair incased in an English shooting-cap, and a mackintosh. “You are not going out in such weather?” demanded Peter. “Yes. I’ve had no exercise to-day, and I’m going for a walk.” “It’s pouring torrents,” expostulated Peter. “I know it.” “But you’ll get wet through.” “I hope so. I like to walk in the rain.” Peter put his hand on the front door-handle, to which this conversation had carried them, “You mustn’t go out,” he said. “I’m going,” said Leonore, made all the more eager now that it was forbidden. “Please don’t,” said Peter weakening. “Let me pass,” said Leonore decisively. “Does your father know?” “Of course not.” “Then you should ask him. It’s no weather for you to walk in.” “I shan’t ask him.” “Then I shall,” and Peter went hurriedly to the library. “Watts,” he said, “it’s raining torrents and Leonore insists on going to walk. Please say she is not to go.” “All right,” said Watts, not looking up from his book. That was enough. Peter sped back to the hall. It was empty. He put his head into the two rooms. Empty. He looked out of the front door. There in the distance, was that prettiest of figures, distinguishable even when buried in a mackintosh. Peter caught up a cap from the hall rack, and set out in pursuit. Leonore was walking rapidly, but it did not take Peter many seconds to come up with her. “Your father says you are not to go out.” “I can’t help it, since I am out,” said Leonore, sensibly. “But you should come back at once.” “I don’t care to,” said Leonore. “Aren’t you going to obey him?” “He never would have cared if you hadn’t interfered. It’s your orders, not his. So I intend to have my walk.” “You are to come back,” said Peter. Leonore stopped and faced him. “This is getting interesting,” she thought. “We’ll see who can be the most obstinate.” Aloud she said, “Who says so?” “I do.” “And I say I shan’t.” Peter felt his helplessness. “Please come back.” Leonore laughed internally. “I don’t choose to.” “Then I shall have to make you.” “How?” asked Leonore.