"Well," he replied, "I should advise remaining here. There is a good hotel."
"But we can't. Don't you see I must not remain—with you?" She spoke the last words with an effort.
"Yes," he rejoined. "It is awkward; but you can't spend the night in the streets; you must have somewhere to sleep."
"Let us go back to Basingstoke, then."
"I can't see that that would help matters," he said gloomily; "we would have to spend the night there just the same. Besides, I think it is going to rain." They were standing outside the church by this time. "No," he continued, "our best course, our only course, in fact, is to stay here to-night, return to Basingstoke to-morrow morning, and wait for them there. You may be sure they are having quite as bad a time as we are. If I only knew some one here——"
"Bravo!" she interrupted, clapping her hands, "I believe you have solved the problem. Look: do you see that carriage over there? What coat of arms has it? Quick! your eyes are better than mine."
In the gathering twilight he saw driving leisurely by, with coachman and footman on the box, a handsome barouche, on the panels of which a coat of arms was emblazoned.
"Well," he said, gazing hard at it, "there is a helmet with a plume, balanced on a stick of peppermint candy——"
"Yes, yes!" she cried, "the crest. Go on!"
"Down on the ground-storey," he continued, "there is a pink shield divided in quarters, with the same helmet in the north-east division, and a lot of silver ticket-punchers in the one below it."