e endless and uneasy; she rose heavy and
unrested, and went at once to the study of Whitaker's Almanac. A Forsyte
is instinctively aware that facts are the real crux of any situation.
She might conquer Jon's prejudice, but without exact machinery to
complete their desperate resolve, nothing would happen. From the
invaluable tome she learned that they must each be twenty-one; or some
one's consent would be necessary, which of course was unobtainable; then
she became lost in directions concerning licenses, certificates, notices,
districts, coming finally to the word "perjury." But that was nonsense!
Who would really mind their giving wrong ages in order to be married for
love! She ate hardly any breakfast, and went back to Whitaker. The more
she studied the less sure she became; till, idly turning the pages, she
came to Scotland. People could be married there without any of this
nonsense. She had only to go and stay there twenty-one days, then Jon
could come, and in front of two people they could declare themselves
married. And what was more--they would be! It was far the best way; and
at once she ran over her schoolfellows. There was Mary Lambe who lived
in Edinburgh and was "quite a sport!"

She had a brother too. She could stay with Mary Lambe, who with her
brother would serve for witnesses. She well knew that some girls would
think all this unnecessary, and that all she and Jon need do was to go
away together for a weekend and then say to their people: "We are married
by Nature, we must now be married by Law." But Fleur was Forsyte enough
to feel such a proceeding dubious, and to dread her father's face when he
heard of it. Besides, she did not believe that Jon would do it; he had
an opinion of her such as she could not bear to diminish. No! Mary
Lambe was preferable, and it was just the time of year to go to Scotland.
More at ease now she packed, avoided her aunt, and took a bus to
Chiswick. She was too early, and went on to Kew Gardens. She found no
peace among its flower-beds, labelled trees, and broad green spaces, and
having lunched off anchovy-paste sandwiches and coffee, returned to
Chiswick and rang June's bell. The Austrian admitted her to the "little
meal-room." Now that she knew what she and Jon were up against, her
longing for him had increased tenfold, as if he were a toy with sharp
edges or dangerous paint such as they had tried to take from her as a
child. If she could not have her way