He raced from the Cathedral to the Station as a man flees from a burning building: his one idea was not to be caught by Onoria. Even if he had envisaged Onoria’s face at one end of the race and matrimony at the other, it is probable he would have continued running in the direction of matrimony. The true coward can only see one danger at a time, and falls light-heartedly into any other which lies in the opposite direction. It says a great deal for Peter Gubbins’ heart that even in that awful moment of panic he dragged Elsie after him. It was not till they were safe in the train that he began to wonder how on earth he was going to get rid of her. The chief obstacle to murder has always been the disposal of the body—and the problem of rescue is very similar to it; but it is easier to dispose of a victim than to dispose of a sacred charge; villains, not knight errants, escape the due reward of their deeds. Peter wished with a burning longing that he could deposit Elsie in the Cloak Room at Paddington Station, even if it involved his paying twopence a day on her for ever. After the tooth episode it was wonderful how Elsie cheered up. She had found in Mr. Gubbins a prop and stay and that was all she wanted. A flower grows without the support of a stick—but its carriage depends on being tied to one. Elsie held her head up, and her mind (which if timorous was always practical) turned to Aunt Anne at Clapham. They had a late tea in the Station and sent off Elsie’s telegram; and then they took a taxi to Clapham. They could have gone as conveniently and more cheaply by train, but a taxi appealed to them both, as more buccaneerish. Peter enjoyed feeling buccaneerish until they reached the Common; then he began to tremble before the idea of explaining things to Aunt Anne. He knew that he had done right, but he was aware that flight and guilt are to many people synonymous; and few men like to explain that they found it safer to run away. Elsie with incredible finesse relieved him of this difficulty. She said she thought it would be better if he left her at the door, and came back next day. “You’ll have time then,” she explained, “to think things over, and I know authors and people think of their plots better alone. Whatever you decide is sure to be wonderful, and Aunt Anne will be more likely to listen to me if you’re not there.” Peter gave a sigh of relief. “Yes—yes,” he agreed, “perhaps the explanation had better come from you direct. I know from personal experience that the way to tackle a difficult situation is easier to me if I am left alone face to face with it, as it were. Perhaps this is merely because I am a man. Onoria would say so—but roughly speaking, I should say that women have the same gift.” “I don’t know if it’s a gift,” said Elise modestly, “but I can’t say anything if other people are there—and I can’t say much if they aren’t; but I’ll do what I can.”