She twisted round in her chair, her elbow on the arm and her chin in her hand and looked at him. "That's sudden, isn't it?" He smiled rather sadly. "When once you've made up your mind, it's best to act, instead of hanging on." "You're sure there's no hope in this country?" "I know I'm as useful as a professional wine-taster will soon be in the United States." They laughed, resumed the discussion of many previous meetings. Had he tried this, that or the other opening? He had tried everything. No one wanted him. "So," said he, "I'm making a clean cut and returning to France." "I'm sorry." She sighed. "Very sorry. You know I am. I hoped you would remain in England and find some occupation worthy of you--but, after all--France isn't Central China. We shall still be next-door neighbours. The Channel can be easily crossed by one of us. You used the word 'ever,' you know," she added with an air of challenge. "I did." "Why?" "That would take a lot of telling," said Andrew grimly. "We've got hours, if you choose, in front of us." "It's not a question of time," said he. "Then, my good Andrew, what are you talking about?" "Only that I must return to the place I came from, my dear friend. Let it rest at that." She lit a cigarette. "Rather fatalistic, isn't it?" "Four years of fighting make one so." "You speak," said she, after a little reflection occasioning knitting of the brows, "you speak like the Mysterious Unknown of the old legends--the being sent from Hell or Heaven or any other old place to the earth to accomplish a mission. You know what I mean. He lives the life of the world into which he is thrown and finds it very much to his liking. But when the mission is fulfilled--the Powers that sent him say: 'Your time is up. Return whence you came.' And the poor Make-believe of a human has got to vanish." "You surely aren't jesting?" he asked. "No," she said. "God forbid! I've too deep a regard for you. Besides, I believe the parable is applicable. Otherwise how can I understand your 'for ever'?" "I'm glad you understand without my blundering into an explanation," he replied. "It's something, as you say. Only the legendary fellow goes back to cool his heels--or the reverse--in Shadow Land, whereas I'll still continue to inhabit the comfortable earth. I'm as Earth-bound as can be." He paused for a moment, and continued:-- "Fate or what you will dragged me from obscurity into the limelight of the war to play my little part. It's over. I've nothing more to do on the stage. Fate rings down the curtain. I must go back into obscurity. _La commedia è finita_." "It's more like a tragedy," said she. Andrew made a gesture with his delicate hands. "A comedy's not a farce. Let us stick to the comedy." "Less heroically--let us play the game," she suggested. "If you like to put it that way." She regarded him searchingly out of frank eyes; her face had grown pale.