“The infernal scoundrel!” burst out George, who had been listening to this recital in almost incredulous horror. Nouna got on to her feet, and looked at him with a puzzled inquiring face. “Did he know you would be angry then?” she asked in a low voice. “I remember he said I should be less proud when I came back.” With a strong effort George controlled himself, lest an incautious word should give any inkling of the rascal’s meaning to the girl’s mind. He drew forward an arm-chair and invited her to take it with the manner he would have used to a princess. In seating herself she held up her arms towards him, but he would not touch her. He sat down gravely a little way off as he said: “You will not go back to Mary Street at all, Nouna.” “No? Shall I stay here with you?” “Not here, dear. These are bachelor’s quarters. But you will stay after Friday in apartments that I shall take for you.” “Why after Friday?” “Because I cannot marry you before then.” “Marry me! You said you were not going to marry me for two years!” “You see I’ve changed my mind.” “Since last night?” “Since an hour ago, since I found you here.” She sprang up and flung her arms about him, with kisses, and caresses, and incoherent words. “Then you are not angry with me for coming. Oh, I’m so glad, I’m so glad I came. I don’t know what to do, I’m so happy. It seemed so dreadful to have to wait two years, two years always away from you. For I never felt like this before, as if my heart would break, or would burn my breast if I was away from you. That is love, isn’t it? Kiss me, kiss me, don’t be so cold. Don’t you love me? Why are you going to marry me if you do not love me?” She pushed herself suddenly away from him, keeping her hands on his shoulders and devouring his face with an eager scrutiny. His dark eyes were very bright, and his skin, burnt red and brown like that of most young Englishmen in summer time, was a deeper colour than ever with excitement. But his forehead was puckered into lines and wrinkles, and his mouth was closed in a firm straight line, a fact which Nouna discovered for herself by brushing up his moustache with a quick and unexpected movement. “You are thinking!” she cried indignantly. “When I tell you of my love you are full of nothing but your thoughts. When I am your wife I will not let you think.” This last passionate sentence struck George with the ominous force of a prophecy. He got up and lifted the girl playfully right above his head, however, while he spoke in grave tones, the tenderness of which was unmistakable. “When two people love each other, little one, one of the two at least always has to think. And when you are my wife you will have to let me do as I please, just as now you have to let me hold you in the air until it is my good pleasure to put you down.”