"There are many who can make the bonds elastic," he answered. "It is only a question of going far enough." "Alas!" she answered, "a few hundred miles are all that are granted to me. And London is like a terrible octopus. Its arms stretch over the sea." "A few hundred miles," he repeated, with obvious relief. "Northward or southward, or eastward or westward?" "Southward," she answered. "The other side of the Channel. That, at least, is something. I always like to feel that there is sea between me and a place which I--loathe!" "Is London so hateful to you, then?" he asked. "Perhaps I should not have said that," she answered. "Say a place of which I am afraid!" He looked across at her. He, too, in obedience to a gesture from her, was seated. "Come," he said, "we will not talk of London, then. Tell me where you are going." She shook her head. "To a little Paradise I know of." "Paradise," he reminded her, "was meant for two." "There will be two of us," she answered, smiling. He felt his heart thump against his ribs. "Then if one wanted to play the part of intruder?" She shook her head. "The third person in Paradise was always very much _de trop_," she reminded him. "It depends upon the people who are already there," he protested. "My friend," she said, "is in search of solitude, absolute and complete." He shook his head. "Such a place does not exist," he declared confidently. "Your friend might as well have stayed at home." "She relies upon me to procure it for her," she said. A rare smile flashed from Wrayson's lips. "You can't imagine what a relief her sex is to me!" he exclaimed. "I don't know why," she answered pensively. "Do you know anything about the North of France, Mr. Wrayson?" "Not much," he answered. "I hope to know more presently." Her eyes laughed across at him. "You know what I said about the third person in Paradise?" "I can't admit your Paradise," he said. "You are a heretic," she answered. "It is a matter of sex, of course." "Naturally! Paradise is so relative. It may be the halo thrown round a court in the city or a rose garden in the country, any place where love is!" "And may I not love my friend!" she demanded. "You may love me," he answered, the passion suddenly vibrating in his tone. "I will be more faithful than any friend. I will build Paradise for you--wherever you will! I will build the walls so high that no harm or any fear shall pass them." She waved him back. Something of the old look, which he hated so to see, was in her face. "You must not talk to me like this, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Indeed you must not." "Why not?" he demanded. "If there is a reason I will know it." She looked him steadily in the eyes. "Can't you imagine one for yourself?" she asked. He laughed scornfully. "You don't understand," he said. "There is only one reason in the world that I would admit--I don't even know that I would accept that. The other things don't count. They don't exist."