Something hummed in his ears, and yet he could hear his own voice like the voice of somebody else. "I love you. I love you." "You mustn't," said our Lady gravely, "it's very wrong indeed. The Queen may have everything--everything on earth, save that. There's nothing worth while in all the world save love, and the Queen must have no love. Don't you pity me?" The lad saw a little quiver in our Lady's face, half grief, half laughter; then like a dumb animal which dare not even speak, he kissed her hand again. That night, far away from the illuminations, the clash of music, and the roaring crowds, long silent streets towards Windsor awoke from their sleep with thunder of hoofs, the clank of steel, the music of armour. Queen Margaret was out for a scamper with her Guard. IV THE CORONATION What was that old London like, the London of 1980, of twenty years ago, before ever the shadow of the storm darkened her suburbs? The town which awakened on the day of our Lady's Coronation was certainly a magnificent capital. Although not nearly so big as New York, its population numbered ten millions, its streets and gardens covering the valley of the Thames from Windsor to Gravesend. Railway travel had so increased in speed and comfort, that men living fifty miles from the city could reach their offices in half an hour. Aerial pleasure-ships enabled even the poorest to get out of town for fresh air; and there were now fields within easy reach for the games and exercises which our people have always loved. Very old folk could remember the curse of the coal smoke, but in 1980 the air of London was as clear as that of the country. The dirt from horse traffic had ceased to mar the streets, and the terrible, monotonous slums of the nineteenth century were replaced by districts of tenement buildings surrounded with public gardens. London had become what Paris used to be, the capital of civilization, the centre of science, art and letters, the metropolis of pleasure. Many millionaires from America and the Dominions had built their palaces in the West End, which had become a region of especial wealth and splendour, having its nucleus in the Imperial Court. The day of the Coronation was heralded by pageants and festivals, the reception of Princes, the gathering of countless visitors. Troops were assembled from every part of the Empire, the Fleet was mobilized and soared like a glittering cloud above the Thames, the streets were being decorated, and buildings torn down to make room for spectators. All these things kept the public amused, and still no cloud had arisen.