ought here straight from a
convent school in Brussels. Ombos was my guardian. He'--she hesitated,
shivering--'I don't think he was quite--sane, but he was always very
kind to me.'

"'Margot,' I stammered as I imprisoned her hands in mine, 'I'm going to
take you out of this mudhole of a place.... I'm going to send you over
to England. I'll stay here and look after you to-night, and to-morrow
I'll see you on your way.'

"She dragged her hands away suddenly.

"'But are you _sure_?' Margot said, half sobbing. 'Please reflect ...
you are in too much of a hurry. When an idea comes to you--the idea,
that you want me for instance--what do you do? Instead of taking the
idea for a long, cool walk, you sit down here to work it up ... it is
the eternal boyishness of the Englishman. You must first think of your
future.'

"'But do you think that the future holds anything for me now that I
wouldn't throw away with both hands for you?' I said, and the passion of
my voice whipped the blood up into that alabaster face ... she put out
her hands with a little pleading movement.

"'Don't,' she said again.

"'I must,' I said stubbornly. 'There's nothing in the world powerful
enough to take you from me ... if you will have me. Margot, you must
believe me ... you shall believe me!' I added almost savagely, and my
hands closed round her waist as she leaned against the back of a huge
old divan. Margot closed her eyes for a moment and her head dropped
gently on my shoulder. Her hair brushed my face, and the faint musky
scent that came from it is woven into all my after memories of that
moment, I drew her closer and she sighed for very happiness, while life
drifted past in uncounted minutes or hours.

"It was the next evening that I arranged to have one of the A.S.C.
cars,--then running between Ypres and St. Omer,--wait for us outside
Margot's rooms. Under cover of darkness I bundled Margot into the
motor-lorry, got the bronze statue in, and jumped up on the driver's
seat beside her, and sank down with a gasp of relief. One last glimpse
of the little bulgy window of the shop as the lorry rounded the corner,
and then I turned and looked at the girl. Tears glittered in her eyes,
and her lips were quivering. I put my hand out and closed over her
ice-cold fingers.

"'Margot!' I said, 'I'm taking you to Boulogne and then you will go to
England to my home. My people will look after you....'

"'But--' she hesitated.

"'There are no "buts,"'