"We started yesterday."

"I shall never forget that part of yesterday," she said.

"It was n't so bad, except for Hamilton."

"It was n't so bad even with Hamilton," she corrected. "I don't think
I can ever be afraid of him again."

"Then it was n't he that bothered you last night?" he asked quickly.

"No," she answered.

"It--it was n't I?"

She laughed uneasily.

"No, Monte; because you were just yourself yesterday."

He wondered about that. He wondered, if he placed before her all the
facts, including the hours after he left her, if she would have said
that. Here was his second opportunity to tell her what he had planned.
If he did not intend to go on, he should speak now. To-morrow it would
be too late. By noon it would be too late. By the time they finished
their breakfast, it would be too late.

He met her eyes. They were steady as planets. They were honest and
clear and clean and confident. They trusted him, and he knew it. He
took a deep breath and leaned forward. Impulsively she leaned across
the table and placed her hand upon his.

"Dear old Monte," she breathed.

It was too late--now! He saw her in a sort of mist of dancing golden
motes. He felt the steady throb of her pulse.

She withdrew her hand as quickly as she had given it. It was as if she
did not dare allow it to remain there. It was that which made him
smile with a certain confidence of his own.

"What we'd better do," he said, "is to get out of Paris. I'm afraid
the pace here is too hot for us."

"To Etois?" she asked.

"That's as good a place as any. Could you start this afternoon?"

"If you wish."

"The idea is to move on as soon as you begin to think," he explained,
with his old-time lightness. "Of course, the best way is to walk. If
you can't walk--why, the next best thing--"

He paused a moment to consider a new idea. It was odd that it had
never occurred to him before.

"I have it!" he continued. "We'll go to Etois by motor. It's a
beautiful drive down there. I made the trip alone three years ago in a
car I owned. We'll take our time, putting up at the little villages
along the way. We'll let the sun soak into us. We'll get away from
people. It's people who make you worry. I have a notion it will be
good for us both. This Hamilton episode has left us a bit morbid.
What we need is something to bring us back to normal."

"I'd love it," she fell in eagerly. "We'll just play gypsy."

"Righ