“Wasn’t he a funny little man? Did I do it all proper?—I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sure they were laughing at me—do you think they were? Oh, just look at my frock—what a sight! What would they think——!” The baby had slightly soiled the front of her dress. George drove up the long hill into the town. As we came down between the shops on Mansfield Road he recovered his spirits. “Where are we going—where are you taking us?” asked Meg. “We may as well make a day of it while we are here,” he answered, smiling and flicking the mare. They both felt that they were launched forth on an adventure. He put up at the “Spread Eagle,” and we walked towards the market-place for Meg’s gloves. When he had bought her these and a large lace scarf to give her a more clothed appearance, he wanted dinner. “We’ll go,” he said, “to an hôtel.” His eyes dilated as he said it, and she shrank away with delighted fear. Neither of them had ever been to an hôtel. She was really afraid. She begged him to go to an eating house, to a café. He was obdurate. His one idea was to do the thing that he was half-afraid to do. His passion—and it was almost intoxication—was to dare to play with life. He was afraid of the town. He was afraid to venture into the foreign places of life, and all was foreign save the valley of Nethermere. So he crossed the borders flauntingly, and marched towards the heart of the unknown. We went to the Victoria Hôtel—the most imposing he could think of—and we had luncheon according to the menu. They were like two children, very much afraid, yet delighting in the adventure. He dared not, however, give the orders. He dared not address anybody, waiters or otherwise. I did that for him, and he watched me, absorbing, learning, wondering that things were so easy and so delightful. I murmured them injunctions across the table and they blushed and laughed with each other nervously. It would be hard to say whether they enjoyed that luncheon. I think Meg did not—even though she was with him. But of George I am doubtful. He suffered exquisitely from self consciousness and nervous embarrassment, but he felt also the intoxication of the adventure, he felt as a man who has lived in a small island when he first sets foot on a vast continent. This was the first step into a new life, and he mused delightedly upon it over his brandy. Yet he was nervous. He could not get over the feeling that he was trespassing. “Where shall we go this afternoon?” he asked. Several things were proposed, but Meg pleaded warmly for Colwick. “Let’s go on a steamer to Colwick Park. There’ll be entertainments there this afternoon. It’ll be lovely.”