ees, 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, and
get Jon for good and all, she felt like dying of privation. By hook or
crook she must and would get him! A round dim mirror of very old glass
hung over the pink brick hearth. She stood looking at herself reflected
in it, pale, and rather dark under the eyes; little shudders kept
passing through her nerves. Then she heard the bell ring, and, stealing
to the window, saw him standing on, the doorstep smoothing his hair and
lips, as if he too were trying to subdue the fluttering of his nerves.

She was sitting on one of the two rush-seated chairs, with her back to
the door, when he came in, and she said at once:

"Sit down, Jon, I want to talk seriously."

Jon sat on the table by her side, and without looking at him she went
on:

"If you don't want to lose me, we must get married."

Jon gasped.

"Why? Is there anything new?"

"No, but I felt it at Robin Hill, and among my people."

"But--" stammered Jon, "at Robin Hill--it was all smooth--and they've
said nothing to me."

"But they mean to stop us. Your mother's face was enough. And my
father's."

"Have you seen him since?"

Fleur nodded. What mattered a few supplementary lies?

"But," said Jon eagerly, "I can't see how they can feel like that after
all these years."

Fleur looked up at him.

"Perhaps you don't love me enough."

"Not love you enough! Why-I--"

"Then make sure of me"

"Without telling them?"

"Not till after."

Jon was silent. How much older he looked than on that day, barely two
months ago, when she first saw him--quite two years older!

"It would hurt Mother awfully," he said.

Fleur drew her hand away.

"You've got to choose."

Jon slid off the table onto his knees.

"But why not tell them? They can't really stop us, Fleur!"

"They can! I tell you, they can."

"How?"

"We're utterly dependent--by putting money pressure, and all sorts of
other pressure. I'm not patient, Jon."

"But it's deceiving them."

Fleur got up.

"You can't really love me, or you wouldn't hesitate. 'He either fears
his fate t