onotonous, a little wearisome even in their splendour, more
than a little empty. And underneath it all she was listening to the new
music, and her heart was telling her the truth.

"You don't need to make any plans," he said softly. "Go and put on your
hat and something to wear motoring. Bring a dressing-bag, if you like.
Flossie is waiting for us and she is rather a dear. You can leave
everything else to me."

She looked timidly into his eyes. A new feeling was upon her. She gave
him her hand almost shyly. Her voice trembled.

"If I come," she whispered, "you are quite sure that you mean it all?
You are quite sure that you will not change?"

He raised her hand to his lips.

"Not in this world, dear," he answered, with sublime confidence, "nor
any other!"

She stole away from him. He was left alone upon the terrace, alone, but
with the exquisite conviction of her return, promised in that last
half-tremulous, half-smiling look over her shoulder. Then suddenly life
seemed to come to him with a rush, a new life, filled with a new
splendour. He was almost humbly conscious of bigger things than he had
ever realised, a nearness to the clouds, a wonderful, thrilling sense of
complete and absolute happiness.... Reluctantly he came back to earth.
His thoughts became practical. He went to the back of his car, drew out
a rocket on a stick and thrust it firmly into the lawn. Then he started
his engine and almost immediately afterwards she came. She was wearing a
white silk motor-coat and a thick veil. Behind her came a bewildered
French maid, carrying wraps, and a man-servant with a heavy
dressing-case. In silence these things were stowed away. She took her
place in the car. Lane struck a match and stepped on to the lawn.

"Don't be frightened," he said. "Here goes!"

A rocket soared up into the sky. Then he seated himself beside her and
they glided off.

"That means," he explained, "that they'll let your father and the others
off in two hours. Give us plenty of time to get to Nice. Have you--left
any word for him?"

"I have left a very short message," she answered, "to say that I was
going to marry you. He will never forgive me, and I feel very wicked and
very ungrateful."

"Anything else?" he whispered, leaning a little towards her.

She sighed.

"And very happy," she murmured.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

HONEYMOONING

Hunterleys saw the Right Honourable Meredith Simpson and Monsieur
Douaille off to Paris earl