"I agree," he said, "the most beautiful things are in England," and lest his meaning should escape her, added, with a jerk of a bow, "and the most beautiful people." And still he stood there, smiling and not moving. "Have you your car with you?" she asked, for something to say. "No, but I'll send for it if you like. We could have some pleasant drives--Stratford, Shakespeare's birthplace--" "We've been to Stratford," she put in, and went a step nearer to the stair-foot. "Then anywhere you like. Shall I send for the car?" "Mr. Basingstoke," she said, quite untruly, "doesn't care much about motoring." "Mr.--? Oh, your brother! Well, we did very well without him before, didn't we? Do you remember what a jolly drive we had, and a jolly lunch; in point of fact, practically everything was jolly until _he_ turned up. I wished him far enough, I can tell you, and I hope you did. Say you did." "Of course I didn't," she had to say. "Well, he'd no right to be stuffy if another fellow took care of you when he couldn't be bothered to." "You know it wasn't that. You know it was a mistake." "I know a good deal," he said, "more than you think for." And he smiled, trying to meet her eyes. "It's cold here," she found herself saying. "I was just going up. I don't like dungeons. Do you?" "I like this one," said he. "Anywhere where _you_ are, don't you know--a palace and all that--" "I really must go," she said. "My brother won't know where I am." "No," he said, with meaning, "he won't." And he set his two hands to the pillars of the arch under which he stood and swayed to and fro, looking at her. "I must really go. Will you let me pass, Mr. Schultz, please." "Not till you tell me to send for my car. I've set my heart on those drives with you. Our brother can stay behind if he doesn't care for motoring. _I_ don't want him, and I'll take care _you_ don't miss him." "Do, please," she said, "let me pass." "No," said he. "I've got you and I mean to keep you. Your brother--" "He's not my brother," she said, on a sudden resolution. "We told you that because, because--" "Don't bother to explain," he said, smiling. That smile, in the days when that dungeon _was_ a dungeon, might have cost him his life if the lady before him had had a knife and the skill to use it. Even now it was to cost him something. "He's not my brother--we're married," she said. And at that he laughed. "I know, my dear girl," he said. "I know all about it. But marriages like that don't last forever, and they don't prevent another gentleman playing for his own hand. I was there when he wasn't, and you let me help you." "I wish I hadn't," said she. "I wish I'd walked all the way to London first. I didn't think--"