It cannot be said that the course of true love was running very smoothly, even from the point of view of the ardent and enamoured suitor himself. In spite of his impulsive temperament, his disinclination to look hard facts squarely in the face, there was in him a slight leaven of common-sense. Save for the bounty and goodwill of this generous, if somewhat narrow-minded, aunt he was an absolute pauper. There was no hope of marrying without her consent. And he was quite sure that in a case like this her consent would never be given. A _fiancée_, to be received by her with approval, must present some sort of credentials. And there was the difficulty. Poor Jack had exhausted all his simple cunning to extract from them some convincing details of their antecedents. But even he, infatuated as he was, had to admit that they had parried inquiries with great adroitness. They maintained a persistent reticence as to names and places. Even he was forced to conclude that, for some reason or another, they did not choose to be frank about their past. These obvious facts, however, did not lessen his infatuation. To marry her was the one dominating object of his life, in spite of all that his few remaining remnants of common-sense could urge against such a step. More than once the rash idea occurred to him that he would marry her in secret, and when the marriage was an accomplished fact, throw himself upon his aunt's forgiveness. He mooted the idea to Norah, to whom, of course, he had already made a frank statement of his position, as befitted the honourable gentleman he was. But she did not receive the suggestion with enthusiasm, although she professed to fully reciprocate his ardent affection. "If I were a selfish girl, and only thought of my immediate happiness, I should say 'Yes,'" she said with a little tremulous smile, that made her look more desirable than ever in her lover's eyes. "But I could not allow _you_ to run such a terrible risk. Old people are very strange and very touchy when they think they have been slighted. Suppose she cast you off." "I suppose I could work, as thousands have to do," replied Jack, with a touch of his old doggedness. She shook her head. "My poor Jack! It is easy to talk of working, but you have got to find an employer. And you have been brought up to an idle life. What could you turn your hand to?" She paused a moment, and then added as an after-thought: "And besides, my brother would never sanction it." Even to Pomfret's slow revolving mind, the worldly taint in her just peeped forth in those sensible remarks. "If I am prepared to risk my aunt's displeasure, you can surely afford to risk your brother's?" he queried angrily. But Norah disarmed him with one of her sweetest smiles.