There was no rehearsal that afternoon, and the members of the

company, in various stages of nervous collapse, strayed distractedly

about the grounds. First one, then another, would seize upon Molly,

while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their pertinacity.

At last, she wondered off alone, and Jimmy, quitting his ambush,

followed.

She walked in the direction of the lake. It had been a terribly hot,

oppressive afternoon. There was thunder in the air. Through the

trees, the lake glittered invitingly.

She was standing at the water's edge when Jimmy came up. Her back

was turned. She was rocking with her foot a Canadian canoe that lay

alongside the bank. She started as he spoke. His feet on the soft

turf had made no sound.

'Can I take you out on the lake?' he said.

She did not answer for a moment. She was plainly confused.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I--I'm waiting for lord Dreever.'

Jimmy saw that she was nervous. There was tension in the air. She

was looking away from him, out across the lake, and her face was

flushed.

'Won't you?' he said.

'I'm sorry,' she said again.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder. Down the lower terrace was

approaching the long form of his lordship. He walked with pensive

jerkiness, not as one hurrying to a welcome tryst. As Jimmy looked,

he vanished behind the great clump of laurels that stood on the

lowest terrace. In another minute, he would reappear round them.

Gently, but with extreme dispatch, Jimmy placed a hand on either

side of Molly's waist. The next moment, he had swung her off her

feet, and lowered her carefully to the cushions in the bow of the

canoe.

Then, jumping in himself with a force that made the boat rock, he

loosened the mooring-rope, seized the paddle, and pushed off.

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE LAKE

In making love, as in every other branch of life, consistency is the

quality most to be aimed at. To hedge is fatal. A man must choose

the line of action that he judges to be best suited to his

temperament, and hold to it without deviation. If Lochinvar snatches

the maiden up on his saddle-bow, he must continue in that vein. He

must not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he can resume the

episode on lines of devotional humility. Prehistoric man, who

conducted his courtship with a club, never fell into the error of

apologizing when his bride complained of headache.

Jimmy did not apologize. The idea did not enter his mind. He was

feeling prehistoric. His heart was beating fast, and his mind was in

a whirl, but the one definite thought that came to him during the

first few seconds of the journey was that he ought to have done this

earlier. This was the right way. Pick her up and carry her off, and

leave uncles and fathers and butter-haired peers of the realm to

look after themselves. This was the way. Alone together in their own

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