"Loaf! I am going to lie down in the fields there amongst the wild flowers, in the shade of the woods," Duncan answered; "that is, if one may take so great a liberty with the woods of madame! This sort of country rather fascinates me," he added thoughtfully. "I have lived so long in a land where the vegetation is a jungle and the flowers are exotics. There is a species of exaggeration about it all. I find this restful." "Africa?" Wrayson asked. The other nodded silently. He did not seem inclined to continue the conversation. "You are the second man I have met lately who has come home from Africa," Wrayson remarked, "and you represent the opposite poles of life." "It is very possible," Duncan admitted. "We are a polyglot lot who come from there." "You were in the war, of course?" Wrayson asked. "I was in the war," Duncan answered, "almost to the finish. Afterwards I went into Rhodesia, and incidentally made money. That's all I have to say about Africa. I hate the country, and I don't want to talk about it. See you later, I suppose." He rose from his chair and stretched himself. Across the lawn the landlord came hurrying, his face perturbed and uneasy. His bow to Wrayson was subtly different. Here was perhaps an aristocrat under an assumed name, a person to be, without doubt, conciliated. "Monsieur," he announced, with a little flourish of the white serviette which, from habit, he was carrying, "there is outside a young lady from the château who is inquiring for you." "Which way?" Wrayson demanded anxiously. "Monsieur will be pleased to follow me," the landlord answered. Louise was alone in a victoria, drawn up before the front door of the inn. Wrayson saw at once that something had happened to disturb her. Even under her white veil he knew that she was pale, and that there were rings under her eyes. She leaned towards him and held out her hand in conventional manner for the benefit of the landlord, who lingered upon the steps. "Come round to the other side of the carriage, Herbert," she said. "I have something to say to you. The coachman does not understand English. I have tried him." Wrayson crossed behind the carriage and stood by her side. "Herbert," she asked, anxiously, "will you do something for me, something I want you to do very much?" "If I can," he answered simply. "You can do this," she declared. "It is very easy. I want you to leave this place this morning, go away, anywhere! You can go back to London, or you can travel. Only start this morning." "Willingly," he answered, "on one condition." "What is it?" she asked quickly. "That you go with me," he declared. She shook her head impatiently. "You know that is not what I mean," she said reproachfully. "I was mad last night. You took me by surprise and I forgot everything. I was awake all night. This morning I can see things clearly. Nothing--of that sort--is possible between you and me. So I want you to go away!" He shook his head, gently but firmly.