ve it would
be possible, of course; but then we must either go to a foreign country
or live here in isolation. I don't want to live permanently abroad, and
I do want to go in for activity--political by preference. The result is
we must set our faces, tell lies, and hope that fortune will favour us."

There was a strong contrast between Quarrier's glowing vehemence and
the show of calm reflection which the other maintained as he listened.
Denzil's face was fully lighted by the fire; his friend's received the
shadow of an old-fashioned screen which Glazzard, finding the heat
oppressive, had pulled forward a few minutes ago. The frank, fearless
gaze with which Denzil's words were accompanied met no response; but to
this habit in the listener he was accustomed.

"Yes, we must tell lies!" Quarrier emphasized the words savagely.
"Social law is stupid and unjust, imposing its obligation without
regard to person or circumstance. It presumes that no one can be
_trusted_. I decline to be levelled with the unthinking multitude. You
and I can be a law to ourselves. What I shall do is this: On returning
to town next week, I shall take Lilian over to Paris. We shall live
there for several weeks, and about the end of the time I shall write to
my people here, and tell them that I have just been married."

He paused. Glazzard made no motion, and uttered no sound.

"I have already dropped a mysterious word or two to my sister, which
she will be able to interpret afterwards. Happily, I am thought a
likely fellow to do odd, unconventional things. Again and again Mary
has heard me rail against the idiocies of ordinary weddings; this
private marriage will be quite in character. I shall state that Lilian
has hitherto been a governess at Stockholm--that I made her
acquaintance there--that I sent for her to meet me in Paris. Now, tell
me, have you any objection to offer?"

Glazzard shifted his position, coughed, and drew from his case a new
cigar, which he scrutinized closely from tip to end--even drawing it
along under his nose. Then he spoke very quietly.

"It's feasible--but dangerous."

"But not _very_ dangerous, I think?"

"I can't say. It depends greatly on your wife's character."

"Thank you for using that word, old fellow!" burst from Denzil. "She is
my wife, in every sense of the word that merits the consideration of a
rational creature!"

"I admit it; but I am afraid of lies."

"I am not only afraid of them; I hate them b