But when it was over, and the car was carrying them swiftly homeward through a moonless night—when he drew her into his arms and held her there, still half-incredulous of his own bliss—his first words were:
"I say, Virgie, let us bolt—shan't we, darling?"
"Bolt?" she questioned, puzzled.
"Get away from everybody—just you and I together. Let us set out upon our honeymoon. We'll go to the Riviera—or to Rome. Would you like that?"
There was a second's pause before she replied—just time for a tiny doubt to stab him. Then she answered low: "Yes, I should like it. Let us go! How strange that I should feel so! But I do!"
"Thank God!" he said with a gasp. "But quite alone, Virgie? Can you do without Grover?"
"But of course, silly! I am accustomed to do without a maid——"
"Then we'll be off, all unbeknown! I can't stand it, you know, all this act-of-heroism business. It turns me sick! And there'll be Rosenberg calling me his preserver, or some other bad name like that. We can get to London to-morrow, and I will give orders for them to dismantle the house and redecorate while we are away. Isn't that a good scheme?"
She thought it excellent, and approved so warmly that he went on glibly:
"We will buy anything we want in London, and settle a route when we are there. Caunter is quite fit to be left in charge of the place; and I had all the designs prepared by the man who did your room, so you have only to approve and they can get to work."