He continued quill driving until his colleague, with fussy good-byes, had withdrawn, when he flung the pen across the room to the fireplace and erected a placard with

OUT

on it, and said in an impelling tone, “Come!”

We went up a little stairway into a snuggery, which Mr. Hardy said was old Cunningham’s private lair.

“What do you think of that for a chair?” said he, backing me into a huge one while he sat across the arms so that I was imprisoned. “Now, we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

“About writing any more books,” I stammered, “I’ve decided not to. I shall have to earn my living. We’re poor.”

“We’re not going to think about books today,” he laughed.

“I mustn’t waste your time,” I said uneasily, trying to get out of the chair without touching him.

“I don’t let anyone waste my time, little one. I’ve manoeuvred this opportunity to have a talk free from the idiots one meets at dinners and things, who want to make a tin-pot lion out of the most innocent of us.”

“I couldn’t possibly waste your time,” I said again. I did not know how to cope with the grave breach of the conventions he was forcing upon me. I was so hurt about it that I was petrified.

“You must see these etchings,” he said in a manner surprising after the way he had ignored my waiting presence for more than an hour. “Old Cunningham has some stunning prints from London, and you shall be the first to see them.”

He went down stairs and came back with a vast book. He dawdled over every picture, but they came to an end at last and I rose again, longing to escape and murmuring about trespassing upon his time. He inquired point blank, “Don’t you like being here with me? Do I bore you?”

BORED! It would have been thrilling but for the wound to my sense of propriety. He wouldn’t do this to Edmée or any girl who knew the ropes, I felt.

He removed the sting by saying, “I had practically to kidnap you. There is a howling pack after you and another after me, and this was our only chance of enjoying ourselves simply. Mrs. Crasterton will know you are as safe as a church. I’ll send for afternoon tea.”

I sat down, but with an uneasiness which was partly genuine shyness.

“You really are more unsophisticated than I could have believed,” he said, and entertained me delightfully all the afternoon. Oh, the books! I was a duck reared in a desert seeing a pond for the first time. I gained ease, Mr. Hardy was now treating me delightfully. Time ran all too quickly, and I had to insist upon departure.

“It was lovely. Thank you for entertaining me.”

“Look here, we must take the law into our hands and escape to enjoy our own society, and keep it secret or we should soon be smoked out of cover. The rabble has no right to bore us to death.”