h
Margaret extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me."

He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending the
stairs. Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed still dazed,
confused with new thoughts. She responded, however, readily to his
touch, yielded to his caress with an almost pathetic eagerness.

"Francis," she murmured, as his arms closed around her, "I want to
forget."

CHAPTER XXIII

There followed a brief period of time, the most wonderful of his life,
the happiest of hers. They took advantage of Sir Timothy's absolute
license, and spent long days at The Sanctuary, ideal lovers' days, with
their punt moored at night amongst the lilies, where her kisses seemed
to come to him with an aroma and wonder born of the spot. Then there
came a morning when he found a cloud on her face. She was looking at
the great wall, and away at the minaret beyond. They had heard from
the butler that Sir Timothy had spent the night at the villa, and that
preparations were on hand for another of his wonderful parties. Francis,
who was swift to read her thoughts, led her away into the rose garden
where once she had failed him.

"You have been looking over the wall, Margaret," he said reproachfully.

She looked at him with a little twitch at the corners of her lips.

"Francis dear," she confessed, "I am afraid you are right. I cannot even
look towards The Walled House without wondering why it was built--or
catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on
underneath."

"I think very likely," he said soothingly, "we have both exaggerated the
seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful
gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about
the place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another,
and that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves.
That doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal."

"If that were all!" she murmured.

"I dare say it is," he declared. "London, as you know, is a hot-bed of
gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think
that it rather appeals to your father's curious sense of humour to pose
as the law-breaker."

She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was
beginning to fall.

"Francis," she whispered, "we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the
sun has gone and I am shivery."

He underst