"Got any money?" inquired Monte.
"No."
Monte drew out his bill-book and handed it to Hamilton.
"Take what there is," he ordered.
Hamilton obeyed, and returned the empty purse.
"Remember," faltered Monte, his voice trailing off into an inaudible murmur, "we're engaged—Marjory and I—"
But Hamilton had disappeared. It was the driver who was peering in the door.
"Where next, monsieur?" he was saying.
"Normandie," muttered Monte.
The windows began to revolve in a circle before his eyes—faster and faster, until suddenly he no longer was conscious of the pain in his shoulder.