an, as he put
me to bed. We would go off to St. Malo,--for a week, and I gave orders
that he should make the necessary arrangements to get permits. To travel
anywhere now is no end of a difficulty.

I wrote to Alathea without weakening--I asked her to collect the Mss.
and make notes of what she thought still should be altered--during my
absence--I wrote as stiffly, and in as business like a manner as
possible--and finally I went to sleep, and slept better than I have done
for some time.

* * * * *

_St. Malo:_

How quaint these places are! I am at this deserted corner by the
sea--where the hotel is comfortable, and hardly touched by the war--I am
not happy--the air is doing me good, that is all--I have brought
books--I am not trying to write--I just read and endeavor to sleep--and
the hours pass. I tell myself continually that I am no more interested
in Alathea--that I am going to get well, and go back to England--that I
have emerged, and am a man with a free will once more--and I am a great
deal better--.

After all, how absurd to be thinking of a woman, from morning to night!

When I get my new leg, and everything is all healed, up in a year or
two, shall I be able to ride again?--Of course I shall, no doubt, and
even play a little tennis?--I can shoot anyway--if we will be allowed to
preserve partridges and pheasants when the war is over in England.

Yes, of course life is a gorgeous thing--I like the fierce wind to blow
in my face--and yesterday, much to Burton's displeasure, I went out
sailing--.

How could I be such a fool, he inferred--as to chance a wrench putting
me back some months again--But one has to chance things occasionally. I
never enjoyed a sail more because of this very knowledge.

* * * * *

A week has passed since we came to this end of the earth--and again I
have grown restless--perhaps it is because Burton came in just now with
a letter in his hand--. I recognized immediately Alathea's writing.

"I made so bold as to leave the young lady our address before we left,
Sir Nicholas, in case she wanted to communicate with us, and she writes
now to say, would I be good enough to ask you if you took with you
Chapter Seven, because she cannot find it anywhere."

Then he went on with evident constraint to tell me that the rest of the
letter said that while she was working on Friday a "Mademoiselle la
Blonde" called, and insisted u