"Never mind your reason--the end justifies the means. I can never thank you enough nor tell you what a weight it lifts off my shoulders. Do you know I feel the difference already?--a peace that passeth understanding!" Mary replied that this was childish; how could such a feeble fiction last? At the very best it could live but an hour, and then he would be no better off than before. It would bristle moreover with difficulties and absurdities; it would be so much more trouble than it was worth. She reminded him that so ridiculous a service had never been asked of any girl, and at this he seemed a little struck; he said: "Ah, well, if it's positively disagreeable to you we'll instantly drop the idea. But I--I thought you really liked me enough----!" She turned away impatiently, and he went on to argue imperturbably that she had always treated him in the kindest way in the world. He added that the worst was over, the start, they were off: the thing would be in all the evening papers. Wasn't it much simpler to accept it? That was all they would have to do; and all _she_ would have to do would be not to gainsay it and to smile and thank people when she was congratulated. She would have to _act_ a little, but that would just be part of the fun. Oh, he hadn't the shadow of a scruple about taking the world in; the world deserved it richly, and she couldn't deny that this was what she had felt for him, that she had really been moved to compassion. He grew eloquent and charged her with having recognised in his predicament a genuine motive for charity. Their little plot would last what it could--it would be a part of their amusement to _make_ it last. Even if it should be but a thing of a day there would have been always so much gained. But they would be ingenious, they would find ways, they would have no end of sport. "_You_ must be ingenious; I can't," said Mary. "If people scarcely ever see us together they'll guess we're trying to humbug them." "But they _will_ see us together. We _are_ together. We've been together--I mean we've seen a lot of each other--all our lives." "Ah, not _that_ way!" "Oh, trust me to work it right!" cried the young man, whose imagination had now evidently begun to glow in the air of their pious fraud. "You'll find it a dreadful bore," said Mary Gosselin. "Then I'll drop it, don't you see? And _you_'ll drop it, of course, the moment _you_'ve had enough," Lord Beaupré punctually added. "But as soon as you begin to realise what a lot of good you do me you won't _want_ to drop it. That is if you're what I take you for!" laughed his lordship.