Mr. Elver at last broke silence. “You’re a damned bully,” he whispered in a passion of misery and futile rage, “a damned stinking bully.” “Come, come,” said Mr. Cardan. “I protest against ‘stinking.’” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IX Early the next morning Mr. Cardan and his hostess left the house and walked rapidly away through the fields in the direction of the lake. They had told the old woman that they would be back to a late breakfast. Mr. Elver was not yet awake; Mr. Cardan had left instructions that he was not to be called before half-past nine. The ground was still wet with dew when they set out; the poplar trees threw shadows longer than themselves. The air was cool; it was a pleasure to walk. Mr. Cardan strode along at four miles an hour; and like a diver out of water, like a soaring bird reduced to walk the earth, Miss Elver trotted along at his side, rolling and hopping as she walked, as though she were mounted, not on feet, but on a set of eccentric wheels of different diameters. Her face seemed to shine with happiness; every now and then she looked at Mr. Cardan with shy adoration, and if she happened to catch his eye she would blush, turn away her head and laugh. Mr. Cardan was almost appalled by the extent of his success and the ease with which it had been obtained. He might make a slave of the poor creature, might keep her shut up in a rabbit-hutch, and, provided he showed himself now and again to be worshipped, she would be perfectly happy. The thought made Mr. Cardan feel strangely guilty. “When we’re married,” said Miss Elver suddenly, “shall we have some children?” Mr. Cardan smiled rather grimly. “The trouble about children,” he said, “is that the bears might eat them. You can never be quite sure of bears. Remember Elisha’s bears and those bad children.” Miss Elver’s face became thoughtful. She walked on for a long time in silence. They came to the lake, lying placid and very bright under the pale early-morning sky. At the sight of it Miss Elver clapped her hands with pleasure; she forgot in an instant all her troubles. The fatal incompatibility between bears and children ceased to preoccupy her. “What lovely water!” she cried, and bending down she picked up a pebble from the path and threw it into the lake. But Mr. Cardan did not permit her to linger. “There’s no time to lose,” he said, and taking her arm he hurried her on. “Where are we going to?” asked Miss Elver. He pointed to the village on the further shore of the lake. “From there,” he said, “we’ll take some sort of cab or cart.” The prospect of driving in a cart entirely reconciled Miss Elver to parting at such short notice with the lake. “That’ll be lovely,” she declared, and trotted on so fast that Mr. Cardan had to quicken his pace in order to keep up with her.