He kissed the trembling lips again, lightly, caressingly. "Oh, don't be too good!" he said. "I couldn't live up to it. You shall say what you like--do what you like. And--you shall be my queen!" She caught back another sob. Her clinging arms tightened. "And you will be--what you have always been," she said--"my king--my king--my king!" In the silence that followed the passionate words, Charles Rex very gently loosened the clinging arms, and set her free. PART IV CHAPTER I THE WINNING POST "I never thought it would be like this," said Toby. She spoke aloud, though she was alone. She stood at an immense window on the first floor of a busy Paris hotel and stared down into the teeming courtyard below. Her fair face wore a whimsical expression that was half of amusement and half of discontent. She looked absurdly young, almost childish; but her blue eyes were unmistakably wistful. Below her seethed a crowd of vehicles of every description and the babel that came up to her was as the roar of a great torrent. It seemed to sweep away all coherent thought, for she smiled as she gazed downwards and her look held interest in the busy scene even though the hint of melancholy lingered. There was certainly plenty to occupy her, and it was not in her nature to be bored. But yet at the opening of a door in the room behind her, she turned very swiftly, and in a moment her face was alight with ardent welcome. "Ah! Here you are!" she said. He came forward in his quick, springy fashion, his odd eyes laughing their gay, unstable greeting into hers. He took the hands she held out to him, and bending, lightly kissed them. "Have you been bored? _Mais non!_ I have not been so long gone. Why are you not still resting, _chérie_, as I told you?" She looked at him, and still--though her eyes laughed their gladness--the wistfulness remained. "I am--quite rested, _monseigneur_. And the tiredness--quite gone. And now you are going to take me to see the sights of Paris?" "Those of them you don't know?" suggested Saltash. She nodded. "I don't know very many. I never went very far. I was afraid." He twisted his hand through her arm, and his fingers closed upon her wrist. "You are not afraid--with me?" he questioned. Her eyes answered him before her voice. "Never, _monseigneur_." "Why do you call me that?" said Saltash. She coloured at the abrupt question. "It suits you." He made his monkeyish grimace, and suddenly dropped his eyes to the blue-veined wrist in his grasp. "Are you happy, _mignonne_?" he asked her, still obviously in jesting mood. Toby's eyes dropped also. She mutely nodded. "The truth, Nonette?" His look flashed over her; his tone was imperious. She nodded again. "I always tell you--the truth." He began to laugh. "_Mais vraiment_! I had not thought that likely. Then you do not want to leave me--yet?" "Leave you!" Her eyes came up to his in wide amazement. "I!"