Cicely's eyes dropped as she asked, "Where shall I be till--till----" "Till we're married? My little girl! It won't be very long. There is a good woman I know. I'll take you there and she will look after you. I shall be near. Leave it all to me and don't worry. Have you got money for your journey?" "Yes, I have enough." "Very well. Now go back, and think of me blessing the ground you walk on. You're so sweet, and you're so brave. You're the wife for me. Will you give me one kiss?" She turned her head quickly. "No," he said at once. "I won't ask for it; not till you are mine altogether." But she put up her face to him in the moonlight. "I'm yours now," she said. "I have given myself to you," and he kissed her, restraining his roughness, turning away immediately without another word to stride down the grass path into the darkness of the trees. Cicely looked after him for an instant and then went back to the house and crept up to her room. CHAPTER XV BLOOMSBURY Mackenzie met her at the London terminus. She had seen no one she knew either at the station at Bathgate or in the train. She was well dressed, in a tailor-made coat and skirt and a pretty hat. She got out of a first-class carriage and looked like a young woman of some social importance, travelling alone for once in a way, but not likely to be allowed to go about London alone when she reached the end of her journey. She was quite composed as she saw Mackenzie's tall figure coming towards her, and shook hands with him as if he were a mere acquaintance. "I have seen nobody I know," she said, and then immediately added, "I must send a telegram to my mother. I can't leave her in anxiety for a whole night." He frowned, but not at her. "You can't do that," he said, "you don't want the post-office people to know." "I have thought of that. I will say 'Have come up to see Muriel. Writing to-night.' It isn't true, but I will tell them afterwards why I did it." "Will that satisfy them?" "I am deceiving them anyhow." "Oh, I don't mean that. Will they think it all right--your coming up to your sister-in-law?" "No, they will be very much surprised. But the post-office people will not gather anything." "They will wire at once to your brother. You had much better leave it till to-morrow." "No, I can't do that," she said. "I will wire just before eight o'clock. Then a return wire will not go through before the morning." "Yours might not get through to-night." "Oh yes, it will. They would take it up to the house whatever time it came." "Very well," he said. "Now come along," and he hailed a hansom. "Please don't think me tiresome," she said, when they were in the cab, "but there is another thing I must do. I must write to my mother so that she gets my letter the very first thing to-morrow morning." He gave an exclamation of impatience. "You can't do that," he said again. "The country mails have already gone."