Stretton understood what the last sentence meant, and he believed it. Yet his mind revolted against the phrase. Of course, it was Pamela's phrase. Pamela, though frank, was explaining the position in words which could best spare Millie. But it was an unfortunate sentence. It provoked a momentary wave of scorn, which swept over Stretton. There was a postscript: "You yourself are really a good deal to blame." Thus it ran; but Stretton was in no mood to weigh its justice or injustice at the moment. Only this afternoon he had been lying under the palm trees putting together in his mind the sentences which were to tell Millie of his success, to re-establish him in her esteem, and to prepare her for his return. And now this letter had come. He sat for a time frowning at the letter, turning its pages over, glancing now at one phrase, now at another. Then he folded it up. "Callon," he said, softly; and then again, "Lionel Callon. I will talk with Mr. Callon." For all its softness, his voice sounded to Warrisden the voice of a dangerous man. And after he had spoken in this way he sat in thought, saying nothing, making no movement, and his face gave Warrisden no clue as to what he thought. At the last he stirred in his chair. "Well?" said Warrisden. "I shall return at once to England." "You can?" "Yes; I shall start to-night," said Stretton. "We can go back together, then." "No; that's impossible." "Why?" asked Warrisden. "Because I should be arrested if we did," Stretton replied calmly. "Arrested?" Warrisden exclaimed. "Yes; you see I shall have to desert to-night." Warrisden started from his chair. "Surely there is an alternative?" "None," replied Stretton; and Warrisden slowly resumed his seat. He was astounded; he had never contemplated this possibility. He looked at Stretton in wonder. He could not understand how a man could speak so calmly of such a plan. Why in the world had Stretton ever joined the Legion if he was so ready, at the first summons, to desert? There seemed an inconsistency. But he did not know Tony Stretton. "You are surprised," said Tony. "More than surprised--you are rather shocked; but there is no choice for me. I wish with all my heart and soul there were," he suddenly exclaimed, with a sort of passion. "I have foreseen this necessity ever since you tapped me on the shoulder in the lane. Because I foresaw it, I would not walk with you to your camp. Were we seen together to-day, the reason of my absence might be the sooner suspected. As it is, I shall get a day's start, for I have a good name in the regiment, and a day's start is all I need." He spoke sadly and wistfully. He was caught by an inexorable fate, and knew it. He just had to accept the one course open to him. "You see," he explained, "I am a soldier of the Legion--that is to say, I enlisted for five years' service in the French colonies. I could not get leave." "Five years!" cried Warrisden. "You meant to stay five years away?"