a suit-case as a parable," I explained.

He looked at me, still reluctant, with an air of perplexity.

"A badge of my friendship for you and your family," I enlarged. "You and
I, my boy, are pals, now. I take it you've left the Jervaises' service for
good. Imagine that this is Canada, not an infernal Park with a label on
every blade of grass warning you not to touch."

"That's all right," he agreed. "But it's extraordinary how it hangs about
you. You know--the feeling that they've somehow got you, everywhere. Damn
it, if I met the old man in the wood I don't believe I could help touching
my hat to him."

"Just habit," I suggested.

"A mighty strong one, though," he said.

"Wait till you're breathing the free air of Canada again," I replied.

"Ah! that's just it," he said. "I may have to wait."

I made sounds of encouragement.

"Or go alone," he added.

"They've cut up rough, then?" I inquired.

"Young Frank has, anyway," he said with a brave assumption of breaking
away from servility.

"You didn't see the old man?"

"Never a sight of him."

"And young Frank...?"

"Shoved it home for all he was worth. Threatened me with the law and what
not. Said if I tried to take Her with me they'd have us stopped and take
an action against me for abduction. I suppose it's all right that they can
do that?"

"I'm afraid it is," I said; "until she comes of age."

"Glad I'd taken the car back, anyhow," Banks muttered, and I guessed that
young Frank's vindictiveness had not been overestimated by Anne. No doubt,
he would have been glad enough to complicate the issue by alleging Banks's
theft of that car.

"Well, what do you propose to do now?" I asked, after a short interval of
silence.

"_I_ don't know," Banks said desperately, and then added, "It depends
chiefly on Her."

"She'll probably vote for an elopement," I suggested.

"And if they come after us and I'm bagged?"

"Don't let yourself get bagged. Escape them."

"D'you think she'd agree to that? Sneaking off and hiding? Dodging about
to get out of the country, somehow?" His tone left me uncertain whether he
were asking a question or spurning the idea in disgust.

"Well, what's the alternative?" I replied.

"We might wait," he said. "She'll be of age in thirteen months' time."

I had no fear but that Banks would wait thirteen months, or thirteen
years, for Brenda. I was less certain about her. Just now she was head
over ears in romance, and I believed