"Shall we have the hood down?" she asked, with intention. "It doesn't matter now if any one does see us." But he pretended not to hear, and the hood remained as it was. They were silent all the crowded way along Cheapside, where there were blocks, as usual, and the drivers of lorries and wagons were cheerfully profane. Silent, too, along Newgate Street and New Oxford Street. The driver, being a wise man, turned up Bloomsbury Street to escape from the blocks in Oxford Street; they passed the British Museum and, presently, the Midlothian Hotel. And as they passed it, each thought of the breakfast there only that morning, when she had poured the coffee of one from whom she had then had no mind to part. "Oh, why are we doing it?" She spoke suddenly, and her speech had the effect of a cry. "We didn't mean to say good-by, and now we're going to. Don't let's." "But your aunt," he said, feeling as foolish as any young man need wish. "If you don't go back to her now you'll want to to-morrow--and I can't. . . . I told you why I want to part now, if we are to part. Now, before it gets any worse." "We shall be at Hyde Park Square in a minute," she said, desperately. "Yes," he said, "it's nearly over. What number is it? I must tell the man." "Tell him to turn around and go somewhere else--into the country; we said we would, you know. I'm not going back to Hyde Park Square. Tell him. . . ." "Princess," he said, "I can't bear it. Let him go on." "But I'm not asking you to bear anything. Don't you understand?" "Not. . . ?" "Yes, I will; if you'll ask me." "You'll marry me?" "Yes," she said, "rather than have everything end in absolute silliness, like this." He looked at her, at her clasped hands and the frown of her great resolve. He perceived that he was worth something to her--that she was prepared to pay a price--the price he set--rather than lose him altogether. Her eyes met his with a mingling of courage and desperation, as of one who has chosen a difficult and dangerous path, one who makes a great sacrifice, leads a forlorn hope. And his eyes dwelt for a moment on hers, appreciatively, thoughtfully. And in that moment his resolve was taken. "No," he said, "you didn't want to jump the wall without knowing what it would be like on the other side. I won't have an unwilling wife. On the other hand, I won't lose you now, Princess, for a thousand fathers and ten thousand aunts. Make up your mind to the mock marriage, and that shall be the way out." "But I thought you said it was impossible." "So it was. But it isn't now. I've been thinking." She leaned back, turned toward him from the corner, and faced him with fearless eyes. "What a nightmare of a day it's been," she said. "Aren't you glad we're awake again? When can I send the certificate?" she asked, eager and alert.