"Then he may take his money back again," said Georgette with a fine flourish. "Susan, she will only marry for love. She has gone away." "Gone away?" I echoed, sinking down on a chair. "Yes, Madame. Susan said, if she didn’t run away, the milord would make her marry him." "Georgette," I cried, springing up, "I give you my word that the milord shall not mention marriage to Susan again. If you are her friend, tell me where to find her. I swear that I am thinking only of her good." Georgette was silent. The truth rushed in upon me. I said: "She has run away with Gibson?" "Yes, Madame," said Georgette tranquilly, "with Monsieur Geebson." "Georgette!" I cried, "help me to find them, and I’ll give you fifty francs. No, don’t pout. If I can stop them, Susan and Gibson will be grateful to you as long as they live, on my word of honour." At last Georgette said: "Susan went out too soon for fear that Madame would stop her. She attends Monsieur Geebson at the bottom of the beck at half-past eight." I snatched a roll from the table and rushed out again to the beach. Bérigny clock struck eight. There would be six or seven minutes to spare. As I sped along, a sickening fear seized me. What if Ruddington and Susan, by another of the ghastly mishaps which kept dogging us all along, had run into one another on the beach? No. As I neared the big boat, I saw him standing there alone. He strode out to meet me eagerly and wonderingly. "Why are you still here?" I asked. "Where would you have me be?" he said. "I have always loved France. But henceforth, France will mean for me just these few square yards of shadow on the stones." "You must not brood," I answered. "You talk as if you are never to be happy any more." "In some other world," he said, smiling sadly, "I mean to be happy with You." "Some other world?" I said. "Who knows that God may not reward you soon in this?" He turned to me with a start; but I did not let him speak. "Have you eaten?" I asked. "Not yet." "How silly!" I said. "Nor have I. Come, eat bread with me. This wind shall be the salt." He took half the roll and smiled. But I could see that my high spirits first jarred on him, and then troubled him. "You are not well," he said. "You are over-wrought. You are excited. Let me lead you home." "No," I said. "I have not felt so well for years. I must go; but not home. There is business to be done." "Where?" he asked, startled. "Along the beach." "Then," he said firmly, "you do not go alone." I considered for a moment. Then I looked him full in the face. "If I allow you to come," I said, "will you promise to disappear when you are told, and to come out when you are called, and not to speak till I give you leave?" He answered, "I promise."