capable, any vital, deep-chested fellow that was passing along
Southampton Row at that moment, would have known how to take her cares on
his broad shoulders and ordain, with kind imperiousness, a course of
action. But he--he could only clutch his fingers nervously and shuffle with
his feet, which of itself must irritate a woman with nerves on edge. He
could do nothing. He could suggest nothing save that he should follow her
about like a sympathetic spaniel. It was maddening. He walked to the window
and looked out into the unexhilarating street, all that was man in him in
revolt against his ineffectuality.

Suddenly came the flash of inspiration, swift, illuminating, such as
happened sometimes when the idea of a world-upsetting invention burst upon
him with bewildering clearness; but this time more radiant, more intense
than he had ever known before; it was almost an ecstasy. He passed both
hands feverishly through his hair till it could stand no higher.

"I have it!" he cried; and Archimedes could not have uttered his famous
word with a greater thrill.

"Emmy, I have it!"

He stood before her gibbering with inspiration. At his cry she raised a
tear-stained face and regarded him amazedly.

"You have what?"

"The solution. It is so simple, so easy. Why shouldn't we have run away
together?"

"We did," said Emmy.

"But really--to get married."

"Married?"

She started bolt upright on the sofa, the feminine ever on the defensive.

"Yes," said Septimus quickly. "Don't you see? If you will go through the
form of marriage with me--oh, just the form, you know--and we both
disappear abroad somewhere for a year--I in one place and you in another,
if you like--then we can come back to Zora, nominally married, and--and--"

"And what?" asked Emmy, stonily.

"And then you can say you can't live with me any longer. You couldn't stand
me. I don't think any woman could. Only Wiggleswick could put up with my
ways."

Emmy passed her hands across her eyes. She was somewhat dazed.

"You would give me your name--and shield me--just like that!" Her voice
quavered.

"It isn't much to give. It's so short," he remarked absently. "I've always
thought it such a silly name."

"You would tie yourself for life to a girl who has disgraced herself, just
for the sake of shielding her?"

"Why, it's done every day," said Septimus.

"Is it? Oh, God! You poor innocent!" and she broke down again.

"There, there," said Septimus kindly