The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost convulsively.

“But we can’t, Chris,” he said, his quiet voice coming through her agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her distress.  “At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I can’t.  Perhaps I am not indispensable.”

“No, no!” she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her.  “I want you.”

“Then I am afraid you will have to marry me,” he said.  “We won’t have a big wedding.  It shall be as private as you like.  I suppose you will want your brothers to be there.”

“Why can’t we run away together and get married all by ourselves?” suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden animation.  “Wouldn’t it be fun?” she said.  “You could come for me in the motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married before anyone knew anything about it.  There would be no one to gloat over us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all.  Trevor,” her face flashed into gaiety once more, “I’ll go with you to-morrow!”

He smiled at her eagerness.  “If I were to agree to that, you would run away in the night.”

“Run away from you!” said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his neck.  “As if I should!” she said reproachfully.

He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand.  “You wouldn’t want to do that, then?” he said.

She nestled to him with a gesture most winning.  “Never, never, unless—­”

“Unless—?” he repeated.

“Unless—­for any reason—­you were angry with me,” she murmured, with her face hidden again.

He folded his arms more closely about her.  “My little Chris, never be afraid of that,” he said.

“Oh, but you might be,” she protested.

“Never, Chris.”  He spoke gravely, with absolute conviction.

She turned her lips quickly to his.  “Then let’s run away together, shall we?”

He kissed her with great tenderness before he answered.  “No, dear, no.  It can’t be done.  What would your aunt say to it?”

“Surely if I don’t mind that, you needn’t!” she said.

But he shook his head.  “I won’t let you be pestered with preparations.  We will keep it a secret from everyone outside.  But I think we must let your Aunt Philippa into it.  I think you owe her that.”

“P’raps,” admitted Chris, without enthusiasm.  “But she is sure to want a big show, Trevor.”

“Leave that to me,” he said.  “I promise you shall not have that.  We will get it done early, and we will be at Kellerton for luncheon.”

Her eyes shone.  “How lovely!  And the boys, too—­and Bertie?”

He surveyed the eager face for a few seconds in silence.  Then, “Chris,” he said, “would it mean a very great sacrifice to you if I asked for the first fortnight with you alone?”

He was watching her closely, watching for the faintest suggestion of disappointment or hesitancy in the clear eyes, but he detected neither.  Chris beamed upon him tranquilly.