A Damsel in Distress

Maud's foot traced circles on the dry turf.

"What a lovely night," she said. "There's no dew at all."

The automobiles snorted, tooted, back-fired, and passed away.

Their clamour died in the distance, leaving the night a thing of

peace and magic once more. The door of the castle closed with a

bang.

"I suppose I ought to be going in now," said Maud.

"I suppose so. And I ought to be there, too, politely making my

farewells. But something seems to tell me that Lady Caroline and

your brother will be quite ready to dispense with the formalities.

I shall go home."

They faced each other in the darkness.

"Would you really do that?" asked Maud. "Run away, I

mean, and get married in London."

"It's the only thing to do."

"But . . . can one get married as quickly as that?"

"At a registrar's? Nothing simpler. You should have seen

Reggie Byng's wedding. It was over before one realized it had

started. A snuffy little man in a black coat with a cold in his

head asked a few questions, wrote a few words, and the thing was

done."

"That sounds rather . . . dreadful."

"Reggie didn't seem to think so."

"Unromantic, I mean. . . . Prosaic."

"You would supply the romance."

"Of course, one ought to be sensible. It is just the same as a

regular wedding."

"In effects, absolutely."

They moved up the terrace together. On the gravel drive by the

steps they paused.

"I'll do it!" said Maud.

George had to make an effort before he could reply. For all his

sane and convincing arguments, he could not check a pang at this

definite acceptance of them. He had begun to appreciate now the

strain under which he had been speaking.

"You must," he said. "Well . . . good-bye."

There was light on the drive. He could see her face. Her eyes were

troubled.

"What will you do?" she asked.

"Do?"

"I mean, are you going to stay on in your cottage?"

"No, I hardly think I could do that. I shall go back to London

tomorrow, and stay at the Carlton for a few days. Then I shall sail

for America. There are a couple of pieces I've got to do for the

Fall. I ought to be starting on them."

Maud looked away.

"You've got your work," she said almost inaudibly.

George understood her.

"Yes, I've got my work."

"I'm glad."

She held out her hand.

"You've been very wonderful... Right from the beginning . . .

You've been . . . oh, what's the use of me saying anything?"

"I've had my reward. I've known you. We're friends, aren't we?"

"My best friend."

"Pals?"

"Pals!"