"I thought so," he confessed, troubled. "It's very inconsiderate of you, you must admit."
"I don't understand..."
"Because of the legal complication. I've no doubt your father can 'have the law on me'"—Kirkwood laughed uneasily—"for taking you from his protection."
"Protection!" she echoed warmly. "If you call it that!"
"Kidnapping," he said thoughtfully: "I presume that'd be the charge."
"Oh!" She laughed the notion to scorn. "Besides, they must catch us first, mustn't they?"
"Of course; and"—with a simulation of confidence sadly deceitful—"they shan't, Mr. Hobbs to the contrary notwithstanding."
"You make me share your confidence, against my better judgment."
"I wish your better judgment would counsel you to share your confidence with me," he caught her up. "If you would only tell me what it's all about, as far as you know, I'd be better able to figure out what we ought to do."
Briefly the girl sat silent, staring before her with sweet somber eyes. Then, "In the very beginning," she told him with a conscious laugh,—"this sounds very story-bookish, I know—in the very beginning, George Burgoyne Calendar, an American, married his cousin a dozen times removed, and an Englishwoman, Alice Burgoyne Hallam."