"Madam, darling Madam," she said, "that's the girl, Till. Tell the young-olds to look after her, for my heart is bursting till I get to The Desmond." But when she did get to him the torch was extinguished, and the very tall and majestic old man and the beautiful little girl entered his special sanctum side by side.
They were alone, they were together once more.
Little did Margot think of anyone else in that moment of glad re-union.
"I said I would come back, and I've come!" she said. "Oh grand-dad, oh, grand-dad, how lovely you look! You are worth twenty of Monsieur le Comte, mon grandpère in France."
"Speak not of him, my child," said The Desmond. "I hate him with a deadly hate."
"Oh, no, no!" said little Margot. "He means well and he can't help being very old and feeble. You see, I had to bring Reparation with me."
"Whatever does the pushkeen mean now?" said The Desmond.
"That tall, ungainly English girl," said Margot. "I had to bring her, she is Reparation."
"That's as queer a name as ever I heard," said The Desmond.