"I think the best plan will be for you both to go away and travel. Go round the world, see fresh faces, try to forget me. One of you will succeed." "But suppose we both succeed?" asked the Captain. "That would be more awkward than ever," I admitted. "And if neither succeed?" asked Lord Arthur at some length. "I should say neither succeeds," I remarked severely. "Neither takes a singular verb." "Pardon me," said Lord Arthur with some spirit. "The plurality is merely apparent. 'Succeed' is subjunctive after if." "Ah, true," I said. "Then suppose you go round the world and I give my hand to whoever comes back and proposes to me first." "Something like the man in Jules Verne!" cried the Captain. "Glorious!" "Except that it can be done quicker now," I said. Lord Arthur fell in joyously with the idea, which was a godsend to me, for the worry of having about you two men whom you love and who love you cannot be easily conceived by those who have not been through it. They, too, were pining away and felt the journey would do them good. Captain Athelstan applied for three months' furlough. He was to put a girdle round the earth from West to East, Lord Arthur from East to West. It was thought this would work fairly--as whatever advantages one outgoing route had over the other would be lost on the return. Each drew up his scheme and prepared his equipment. The starting-point was to be my house, and consequently this was also the goal. After forty-eight days had passed (the minimum time possible) I was to remain at home day and night, awaiting the telegram which was to be sent the moment either touched English soil again. On the receipt of the telegram I was to take up my position at the front window on the ground floor, with a white rose in my hair to show I was still unwon, and to wait there day and night for the arrival of my offer of marriage, which I was not to have the option of refusing. During the race they were not to write to me.