He gave the matter a great deal of quiet study and reflection, but he did nothing to precipitate the event of seeing Elsie again; he felt that if they met by chance it would rob their meeting of any dangerous intensity which it might otherwise have. The meeting took place at the Post Office precisely a week later. Elsie was standing with her back to Peter reading the notice of an oratorio which was to be performed at a neighbouring Cathedral town. Peter bought three ha’penny stamps and a packet of post cards before anything striking happened. Then Elsie turned round and gasped “Oh, Mr. Gubbins!” Peter kept his head and paid for the post cards before he answered her. “Oh, it’s you, Elsie, is it?” he remarked guardedly, having counted his change. “Have you ever heard the Messiah?” Elsie said she hadn’t, balancing first on one foot, and then on the other. She didn’t know whether to go out of the Post Office into the street where anything might happen, or to remain in the shelter of the Post Office where it would be more difficult to get away if anything did happen. “Do you want any stamps?” Mr. Gubbins asked kindly. Elsie flew to the counter and bought six, then she opened her purse and found she had already purchased a shilling’s worth. Eventually they got into the street. “It must be splendid,” said Elsie, referring to the Messiah. “Only I believe Onoria said it wasn’t, so of course it can’t be. Have you ever heard it?” “Oh, time and time again,” said Mr. Gubbins lightly. “It is one of my favourite entertainments, the Messiah. As a young man I went regularly to hear it every Christmas Eve at the Albert Hall. I only gave it up after an attack of tonsillitis I had one winter—I may have told you about it? I date all my throat trouble from then.” He had told Elsie about it several times, but as she merely murmured sympathetically, he told her about it again. After he had finished he came back to the Messiah. “How would you like to go and hear it at the Cathedral?” he enquired. “The organist is a friend of mine—he is going to get the soloists from town, and I expect he’ll have got quite a good chorus together. The Dean is allowing him to have it in the Cathedral.” “Like it!” exclaimed Elsie. “Oh, frightfully, but you see Mother and Father hate music, except bands on the beach, and Onoria says local renderings of oratorios should be put down by law.” “Well!” said Mr. Gubbins with unflinching courage. “Opinions differ about oratorios of course. How would it be if I took you myself? I daresay we could arrange something about it.” Elsie looked at him as if he had suggested an expedition to Central Africa. It was a most inspiriting look. Mr. Gubbins found it so, and a lukewarm desire to do something desperate took possession of him. But he meant to be very careful about it. He stage-managed this plunge into the Forbidden Land with infinite precaution.