ret raised her
head from Michael's breast, he bent his head and kissed her lips.

"Dearest," he said, "you and I can afford to forgive her, poor lonely
little soul!"

"I can forgive anybody anything, Mike."

"Even the Kaiser, beloved woman?"

Margaret shivered. "Don't let's think of him--not for eleven days, at
least."

"We shall be able to be sorry for even him some day," he said. His
confident tones delighted her, for his mention of the war had brought
the angel with the flaming sword into her Eden.

"You really think so, Mike? Your inner self feels it? Sometimes I
almost despair--they are so strong, so clever."

"I do believe it," he said. "You foolish woman, of course I believe
it. The day may be a long way off, but it is coming, just the same.
The triumph of light over darkness, Meg, the old, old fight--we shall
see the resurrection of Osiris and the defeat of Set all over again.
The sun of righteousness will stream over the world when the devil of
militarism is crushed for ever."

He kissed her again rapturously. Their time together was so short; it
left them little opportunity for lengthy talks on any subject. The way
in which Michael broke off in the middle of his sentences to make love
to her, and question her eagerly and impetuously, suggested the hosts
that disturbed his mind. He wanted to tell her all about the old
African's idea of the meaning of the war, and about his visualizing of
the treasure for the second time; but he wanted still more her lips and
her own exquisite assurances of her love for him, the eternal subject,
which neither age nor war can affect. The one important fact which
could not wait was that tomorrow she was to be his wife, and if he did
not let her return to her preparations, there was the possibility that
some hitch a might occur. So they went back to Hadassah and told her
all that had happened.

For everyone concerned the rest of that day flew on wings. Each hour
passed like a flash. Bed-time came, and Margaret scarcely seemed to
have achieved half or quarter of the things she had meant to do.

A telegram had arrived, in answer to hers, from the aunt with whom she
had lived as a child and young girl. The bride-elect had felt just a
little worried about her aunt; she had written her a letter which she
would receive on her wedding morning. In it Margaret had told her all
about her friendship with Michael while she was living with Freddy in
Egypt, and of Fre