But as he spoke the little creature, who had been trying in vain with her weak fingers to undo the clasp of his strong ones on her waist, suddenly ceased to struggle and lay limp and heavy on his hands, her head and limbs hanging loose, and her cap falling to the ground. George let her down and placed her on the sofa in consternation, blaming himself for ignoring the fragility of the tiny thing. There she lay just as he placed her, as still as the dead. No sooner, however, had he rushed into his bedroom, returning with a glass of water which he began nervously to sprinkle on her still face, than she opened her eyes with a sly and elfish delight, and began to curl up with mischievous laughter. George fell back with a sick feeling which was not all relief at finding she was less fragile than he had supposed. He had challenged her to take his playful action as an allegory, and she had had the wit to accept and continue it. When their two wills should clash she would obtain by fraud what she could not get by force. It was at least a fair warning. He was angry with her and he got up from his knees without speaking, without looking at the laughing girl. Nouna understood, and in a moment all merriment had died from her face; she was clinging to his arm, entreating him passionately to forgive her; she was a wicked, ungrateful girl; she had only meant to tease him, to see if he would mind if she were ill; she would obey him, she would do whatever he wished her to do; she would throw herself out of the window if he would not turn and kiss her. So he turned, of course, and the kiss of peace was given; but George had had a chill in the height of his passion, and even while he passed his hand over her soft hair and made her pretty, low-voiced love-speeches, his mind was full of practical matters concerning her lodging for the three nights to be passed before he could possibly marry her, and other details connected with this step. “Where was this school you lived at before you came to London with Mrs. Ellis, Nouna?” he asked suddenly. “School! It wasn’t quite a school. There was only six of us, and we all had rooms apart and our own servants,” said Nouna. “Well, but where was it?” “It was at Clifton. But why--” “Clifton! That’s no use,” said George to himself. Then he continued aloud, “Now, Nouna, will you be a good child and stay quietly where I take you to-night?” “Yes,” said she, nodding like a child, “if you come too.” “I’ll take you there to-night, and I’ll come and see you quite early in the morning. It is to the house of an old servant in our family who now lets part of her house in apartments. She will be very kind to you, I know.” “But you won’t leave me there all alone--without Sundran or anybody?” “I won’t leave you until I see you are quite happy and comfortable there, and if you don’t like the place and the people I won’t leave you there at all.”