"Where to?" Michael repeated foolishly. He paused. "Oh, anywhere!
Anywhere will do—it doesn't matter." He smiled. "I'm back in old
Blighty—that's all that matters—anywhere is good enough for me."
"Right you are, sir! I'll take you somewhere pleasant."
Margaret smiled. She was, indeed, all smiles and heart-beats and nervous anticipation.
The moment the taxi had swung away from the station, it entered a quiet street, bordered with high houses on either side. Michael lost no time; he folded her in his arms and kissed her again and again, and held her to him.
"This is heaven, just heaven, darling!" he said ardently. "I could eat you all up, you're so fresh and sweet and delicious!"
Meg was unresisting. Her yielding told her lover more than hours of explanation could have done. All she said was:
"But what if I don't think it's heaven?"
"What indeed?" he said, happily. "But don't you?" He had released her to read her answer in her eyes.
She said nothing; words seemed for lighter moments.
"Say something nice," he pleaded.