"I should not have come out," I told her. "To tell you the truth, Adèle, I am a different man now from what I was half an hour ago. I had forgotten that I was still a live being, and that the world was, after all, a beautiful place. I think I had forgotten that there was such a person as Hardross Courage. The absorption of these days, when one has to remember, even with every tick of the clock, that the slightest carelessness, the slightest slip, means certain death—well, it lays hold of you. No wonder the lines are there, dear!"
"Some day," she whispered, "I will smooth them all away for you! …"
Gilbert came in a few minutes later.
"I am sorry to disturb you," he said, "but it is time I was off."
He glanced at Adèle.
"We have no secrets," I declared quickly.
He smiled.
"Well," he said, "I have an appointment with the Foreign Secretary at three o'clock this afternoon. Where can I see you afterwards?"
I hesitated. That was rather a difficult question to answer.
"I don't want to come here too often," I answered. "Do you mind sitting up a little later than usual tonight?"