“Oh no!” she exclaimed curtly.  “Oh no!”

“Oh no what?”

“We can’t possibly go like that,” she said.

“But don’t I tell you it’ll be all right?” he protested.  “If we stay here and they come after you ...!  Besides, I’ve got the tickets and all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she demanded.

“But how could I?” he grumbled.  “Have we had a single minute alone?”

This was nearly true.  They could not have discussed the formalities of marriage in the crowded train, nor during the hurried lunch with a dozen cocked ears at the same table.  He saw himself on sure ground here.

“Now, could we?” he pressed.

“And you talk about going to see pictures!” was her reply.

Undoubtedly this had been a grave error of tact.  He recognized that it was a stupidity.  And so he resented it, as though she had committed it and not he.

“My dear girl,” he said, hurt, “I acted for the best.  It isn’t my fault if rules are altered and officials silly.”

“You ought to have told me before,” she persisted sullenly.

“But how could I?”

He almost believed in that moment that he had really intended to marry her, and that the ineptitudes of red-tape had prevented him from achieving his honourable purpose.  Whereas he had done nothing whatever towards the marriage.

“Oh no!  Oh no!” she repeated, with heavy lip and liquid eye.  “Oh no!”

He gathered that she was flouting his suggestion of Paris.

Slowly and nervously he approached her.  She did not stir nor look up.  Her glance was fixed on the washstand.  He bent down and murmured: 

“Come, now.  It’ll be all right.  You’ll travel in the ladies’ saloon on the steam-packet.”

She did not stir.  He bent lower and touched the back of her neck with his lips.  And she sprang up, sobbing and angry.  Because she was mad for him she hated him furiously.  All tenderness had vanished.

“I’ll thank you not to touch me!” she said fiercely.  She had given him her lips a moment ago, but now to graze her neck was an insult.

He smiled sheepishly.  “But really you must be reasonable,” he argued.  “What have I done?”

“It’s what you haven’t done, I think!” she cried.  “Why didn’t you tell me while we were in the cab?”

“I didn’t care to begin worrying you just then,” he replied:  which was exactly true.

The fact was, he had of course shirked telling her that no marriage would occur that day.  Not being a professional seducer of young girls, he lacked skill to do a difficult thing simply.

“Now come along, little girl,” he went on, with just a trifle of impatience.  “Let’s go out and enjoy ourselves.  I assure you that everything will be all right in Paris.”

“That’s what you said about coming to London,” she retorted sarcastically through her sobs.  “And look at you!”