“Oh, Maurice will be made over to Helen; she will take excellent care of him. He has had a very good time the last two years; it’s _my_ turn now. I must have you all to myself, no rivals, small or large, which is one reason why I don’t want to settle down at home just at present. We should have nothing but one scene of visiting, feasting, and mutual entertainments. Whereas, roaming about abroad, we can scorn all social claims, spend our time as we please, and, if the worst comes to the worst, pretend we are bride and bridegroom. If you are a good girl and get strong and well by Christmas I shall bring you home again; if not, I shall take you on to Egypt.” “Egypt!” she echoed. “Why Egypt? And why do you sigh, Regy, and look at me so wistfully?” she asked, raising her gray eyes to his fond dark ones, that seemed to brim over with a look of anguish she could not understand. “I did not sigh,” he replied mendaciously. “And why not go to Egypt? You know you have always had a craving to out-travel Helen and to see the old Nile. Come, it is getting late, I cannot let you stay out any longer; the dew is falling, you must go in.” “Ah! I see you have had enough of me already,” she replied with a pretty little shrug. “Tell me, Regy, who have you got in this locket?--you never used to wear one.” “Who do you think--are you jealous? A Begum who took rather a fancy to me,” he said, opening the case and revealing herself. “As long as I had the original I never wore it of course. I believe this locket is a kind of talisman; it has been twice into action, for I never left it out of my possession night or day.” They were slowly promenading up and down the centre garden-walk, now stopping for an instant, now again going on, this time very, very leisurely, as it was the very last turn they were to take. On this point Reginald was resolute, although he grudged sorely to shorten the happiest hour he had known for years. Oblivious of all the world, and absorbed in each other, they were approaching the gate, which suddenly burst open, and Geoffrey, singing, “Alice, where art thou?” appeared. “I’ve been sent,” he shouted, “to know if you mean to roost in the pear-tree? _Where_ are the pears?” he added imperiously. “Why, what’s all this? I do believe,” looking from one to the other, “that you two have buried the hatchet, come off the war-path, and smoked the pipe of peace!” “Yes, wise and observant Geoffrey, you are right for once. We have been the victims of an unfortunate accident that has cost us both very dearly,” replied Reginald gravely. “Hip, hip, hurrah!” cried Geoffrey, dancing a war-dance round them, concluding with three wild bounds into the air. “I really must embrace you, my dear Regy. You know I’d twice as soon have you as Alice.” So saying he flung himself on Reginald _à la Française_.