“But, my darling Letty, unless you are divorced, how can you marry me? We must give some just cause, for them to go on; I’m not sure that it’s cricket--a faked elopement--but I see nothing else for it; and I understand there is no getting over the fact of a private sitting-room: so I’ve taken this,” nodding at himself in one of the long mirrors between the windows. “To-night, I shall return to my own diggings, and you will have the suite to yourself. To-morrow, we will go down to Broadstairs, I’ve secured rooms for you there. I’m afraid we won’t see much of one another till the decree nisi is out; the case, of course, will be undefended; our lawyers will arrange matters very quietly and try and keep the business out of the papers. We shall have to wait six months, and then, Letty,” and his voice had a ring of irrepressible joy, “we will be married!” Letty attempted to speak, but he put up his hand. “Of course, it’s a maddening wait, but can’t be helped. I’m going to Moscow to study Russian all the time, and I’ll write to you every day, and you to me. You might go abroad if you liked. Mrs. Hesketh has promised me to befriend you. I’ve been down to see her; she blames herself for _this_, says she brought us together--not much bringing wanted on my part, eh, Letty?” And he paused and laughed, a short excited laugh. “And what about----” she was beginning. “Just wait one second, till I finish my innings; I’m wound up like a clock. Oh, yes, I know--the regiment. I’ve arranged for an exchange to another in India--that’s settled, and it is all right about money, too. Did you hear that I came in for a legacy this spring. I have enough for us both; to-morrow, I’ll open an account for you at Cox’s. This is only the bald, commonplace outline--and now,” coming to a standstill before her, “I’ve finished at last, and it’s your turn. What,” he asked with a smile, “have _you_ got to say?” “I’ve got to say,” and she rose and faced him with a face white as death, “that--that--I cannot--do it! No,” speaking with dry lips, “it’s no use--my heart has failed me, and _I am--going back_.” Lumley’s amazement was such, that he was dumb; twice he opened his mouth to speak, but only his breathing could be heard. At last he stammered out: “Letty, you are not in earnest,--you cannot return; the worst is over, and I shall never let you go--never; consider that settled.” “Oh, but you must--you must!” she cried, twisting her hands together. “I screwed up my courage--I wrote those farewell letters--I wrote to him, and I left home--it seems years ago; but before I was half-way to town I had repented. Yes,” speaking between short dry sobs, “you know my besetting failing; always standing at the cross roads. This time, I have made up my mind--I am,” and she gave a great sob, “sure of myself. I love you, dear, dear Lancelot, but if we carried out your plans, we should be miserable.”