“Would you like to go on anywhere?” he said, when they had finished dinner and were drinking their coffee.
“No, let us stay here. I must go to bed early, as I have a tiring day before me tomorrow.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Nothing of any importance,” she laughed.
Presently the diners began to go in little groups, and Margaret suggested that they should saunter towards the Madeleine. The night was fine, but rather cold, and the broad avenue was crowded. Margaret watched the people. It was no less amusing than a play. In a little while, they took a cab and drove through the streets, silent already, that led to the quarter of the Montparnasse. They sat in silence, and Margaret nestled close to Arthur. He put his arm around her waist. In the shut cab that faint, oriental odour rose again to his nostrils, and his head reeled as it had before dinner.
“You’ve made me very happy, Margaret,” he whispered. “I feel that, however long I live, I shall never have a happier day than this.”
“Do you love me very much?” she asked, lightly.
He did not answer, but took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. They arrived at Margaret’s house, and she tripped up to the door. She held out her hand to him, smiling.
“Goodnight.”
“It’s dreadful to think that I must spend a dozen hours without seeing you. When may I come?”