"'I really wish you would,' I said, 'I don't care so long as he can't grin at me.' "Somehow, with the bronze figure covered up, I felt much lighter and happier. "I think that Margot--that Margot must have been rather overstrained after the struggle with that brute. She seemed to be all nerves--upset: insisted in putting her little white hand on mine in a very solemn way, and thanking me for all sorts of imaginary favours.... Got 'a wheeze' into her head, among other rot, that I had saved her life. "'Look here,' I said. 'I wish you wouldn't talk so jolly silly. I'm not a bit unselfish, I'm a novelist. There was nothin' doin' with my crowd--regiment I mean--and so I came here to look for "copy." That was why I persisted in seeing you home here. It was all just a matter of "copy" to me--at the start.' I paused, and Margot turned her tourmaline eyes full on me. Had you asked me after my first visit to old Ombos what Margot's eyes were like I could not have told you the colour to save my life. If I had been forced to weigh out a guess I might have said they were a shade of grey. Grey? Name of a little dog! Yes, I should have called 'em grey, but that would have been like describing the Pyramids by saying they were stone. However can I describe the wonder that I found ..." A sort of flush appeared on Crabbe's boyish face. "I--I'm afraid I have run off the track of my story a bit," he stammered, "but I may as well tell you all of it." "Take a drink of whiskey;" said Duckford slowly, "and take your own time." "Margot looked at me, her lips quivering. 'You've not found much "copy" I'm afraid,' she answered despondently. "'Now,' I said, meeting her eyes, '"copy" matters not at all ... you are all that matters.' "It does not in the least concern you or the story to know what manner of a woman Margot is. But I might say that she is in fulness a woman--not a fribble, or one of those pick-me-up-and-carry-me women. So when I said plain words to her she did not pretend to misunderstand. "'Don't let us be conventional,' I went on, 'It wouldn't fit in with these wonderful days a bit. Perhaps I've no right to talk to you like this--but Ombos is dead and you seem to have no friend in the world. We have got caught up, you and I, in one of the marvellous tangles of this great conflict, and God knows how it's all going to end. But it seems to have been written in the book of fate that we should meet, and whether Ombos and his bronze statue haunts me to the end of my days or he doesn't, I'm glad I have met you, and to know for just one swift hour I've used these hands of mine in your service. I wouldn't take back one minute of these great days!' "Margot was regarding me with her wide eyes, a little startled, but I saw beyond those rounds of tourmaline a soft light. "'How is it?' said Margot calmly. 'A few hours ago you hadn't spoken more than a few words to me ... you don't know me.' "'In times of war,' I reminded her, 'we live a year in a day.'