"There's no such hurry as all that," she said, "and it's no use being angry with me because I won't jump over a wall without knowing what's on the other side. No, why I should jump, either," she added, on the impulse of a sudden thought. "You haven't told me that yet. What good would my getting married do to Aunt Alice? I don't mean that I would, because you know I couldn't--even for her--but what good would it do if I did?" "If we were married," he said, with a careful absence of emotion, "we could send your aunt a copy of our marriage certificate and a reference to my solicitor. She would then know that you had married a respectable person with an assured income, instead of which you now appear to be running about the country stealing ducks with Heaven knows who." "Yes," she said, "I see that. Oh, I have a glorious idea! It will suit you and me and Aunt Alice and make everybody happy!--like in books. Let's have a mock marriage, and forge the certificate." "Have you ever seen a marriage certificate?" "No, of course not." "Well, it would be as difficult to forge as a bank-note." "Why--have you ever seen one?" she asked, and he hoped it was anxiety he read in her tone. "Yes; I know a chap who's a registrar. I've witnessed a marriage before now." "Then there's no need to forge," she said, light-heartedly. "Your friend would give you one of the certificates, of course, if you asked him, and we could fill it in and make Aunt Alice happy." He laughed, and the sound, echoing in the gray emptiness of the Hall, drew on him the sour glance of a barrister, wigged and gowned, hastening to the mayor's court. "He's wondering what you've got to laugh at," she said, "and I don't wonder. _I_ don't know. Why shouldn't we pretend to be married? I'm sure your friend would help us to. Oh, do!" she said, clasping her hands with an exaggerated gesture that could not quite hide the genuine appeal behind it. "Then we sha'n't have to part. I mean I sha'n't have to go back to the aunts and all the worry that I thought I'd got away from." "You're not really serious." "But I am. You will--oh, do say you will." "No," he said, "it's impossible--Princess, don't ask if I can't." "Then it's all over?" "I suppose so, if you insist on going back." "I don't insist. But I must do something about Aunt Alice. She's always been a darling to me. I can't go away and be happy and not care whether she's miserable or not. You'd hate me if I could. I'll go back to-morrow or to-night. You said we should go into the country and think things out. At least we can do that--we can have one more day. Shall we?" Her sweet eyes tempted and implored.