as breaking with her mother. How dared he have anything to
break, and yet how dared he break it?

"Good-night, Miss Forsyde! Remember me to Mrs. Dartie. I'm not so bad,
really. Good-night!" Fleur left him standing there with his hat raised.
Stealing a look round, she saw him stroll--immaculate and heavy--back
towards his Club.

'He can't even love with conviction,' she thought. 'What will Mother
do?'

Her dreams that night were endless and uneasy; she rose heavy and
unrested, and went at once to the study of Whitaker's Almanac. A
Forsyte is instinctively aware that facts are the real crux of any
situation. She might conquer Jon's prejudice, but without exact
machinery to complete their desperate resolve, nothing would happen.
From the invaluable tome she learned that they must each be twenty-one;
or some one's consent would be necessary, which of course was
unobtainable; then she became lost in directions concerning licenses,
certificates, notices, districts, coming finally to the word "perjury."
But that was nonsense! Who would really mind their giving wrong ages in
order to be married for love! She ate hardly any breakfast, and went
back to Whitaker. The more she studied the less sure she became; till,
idly turning the pages, she came to Scotland. People could be married
there without any of this nonsense. She had only to go and stay there
twenty-one days, then Jon could come, and in front of two people they
could declare themselves married. And what was more--they would be! It
was far the best way; and at once she ran over her school-fellows.
There was Mary Lambe who lived in Edinburgh and was "quite a sport!"
She had a brother too. She could stay with Mary Lambe, who with her
brother would serve for witnesses. She well knew that some girls would
think all this unnecessary, and that all she and Jon need do was to go
away together for a week-end and then say to their people: "We are
married by Nature, we must now be married by Law." But Fleur was
Forsyte enough to feel such a proceeding dubious, and to dread her
father's face when he heard of it. Besides, she did not believe that
Jon would do it; he had an opinion of her such as she could not bear to
diminish. No! Mary Lambe was preferable, and it was just the time of
year to go to Scotland. More at ease now, she packed, avoided her aunt,
and took a 'bus to Chiswick. She was too early and went on to Kew
Gardens. She found no peace among its flower-beds, labelled tr