n he stared. This was preposterous.

"It's all right, Papa. It's all settled."

"By whom?"

"By me."

"You've found something to do in London?"

"Not yet. I'm going to look--"

"And what," inquired the Vicar with an even suaver irony, "_can_ you
do?"

"I can be somebody's secretary."

"Whose?"

"Oh," said Gwenda airily, "anybody's."

"And--if I may ask--what will you do, and where do you propose to
stay, while you're looking for him?" (He felt that he expressed
himself with perspicacity.)

"That's all arranged. I'm going to Mummy."

The Vicar was silent with the shock of it.

"I'm sorry, Papa," said Gwenda; "but there's nowhere else to go to."

"If you go there," said Mr. Cartaret, "you will certainly not come
back here."

All that had passed till now had been mere skirmishing. The real
battle had begun.

Gwenda set her face to it.

"I shall not be coming back in any case," she said.

"That question can stand over till you've gone."

"I shall be gone on Friday by the three train."

"I shall not allow you to go--by any train."

"How are you going to stop me?"

He had not considered it.

"You don't suppose I'm going to give you any money to go with?"

"You needn't. I've got heaps."

"And how are you going to get your luggage to the station?"

"Oh--the usual way."

"There'll be no way if I forbid Peacock to carry it--or you."

"Can you forbid Jim Greatorex? _He_'ll take me like a shot."

"I can put your luggage under lock and key."

He was still stern, though, he was aware that the discussion was
descending to sheer foolishness.

"I'll go without it. I can carry a toothbrush and a comb, and Mummy
will have heaps of nightgowns."

The Vicar leaned forward and hid his face in his hands before that
poignant evocation of Robina.

Gwenda saw that she had gone too far. She had a queer longing to go
down on her knees before him and drag his hands from his poor face
and ask him to forgive her. She struggled with and overcame the morbid
impulse.

The Vicar lifted his face, and for a moment they looked at each other
while he measured, visibly, his forces against hers.

She shook her head at him almost tenderly. He was purely pathetic to
her now.

"It's no use, Papa. You'd far better give it up. You know you can't
do it. You can't stop me. You can't stop Jim Greatorex. You can't even
stop Peacock. You don't want _another_ scandal in the parish."

He didn't.

"Oh, go your own way,"