am to public speaking," he abruptly delivered the benediction and
sat down. The incident, however, provoked little attention. The
congregation, accustomed to sleep through the sermon, awoke at the
usual time and went home. Only a single Scotchwoman said to him in
passing: "Verra weel for a beginning, laddie. But give it hotter
to 'em next time." Discomfited and bewildered, he communed with
himself gloomily. "I can't marry Golly. I can't talk. I hate
society. What's to be done? I have it! I'll go into a
monastery."

He went into a monastery in Bishopsgate Street, reached by a
threepenny 'bus. He gave out vaguely that he had got into
"Something Good, in the City." Society was satisfied. Only Golly
suspected the truth. She wrote to her grandfather:--

"I saw John Gale the other day with a crowd following him in the
Strand. He had on only a kind of brown serge dressing-gown, tied
around his waist by a rope, and a hood on his head. I think his
poor 'toe-toes' were in sandals, and I dare say his legs were cold,
poor dear. However, if he calls THAT protection of Golly--I don't!
I might be run off at any moment--for all he'd help. No matter!
If this Court understands herself, and she thinks she do, Golly can
take care of herself--you bet."

Nevertheless, Golly lost her place at the hospital through her
heroic defense of her friend Jinny Jones, who had been deceived by
Lord Brownstone Ewer. "You would drive that poor girl into the
street," she said furiously to the Chairman of the Board, throwing
her cap and apron in their faces. "You're a lot of rotten old
hypocrites, and I'm glad to get shut of you." Not content with