"Dear," Owen wrote, "after what you said yesterday I can't
wait another hour, and I'm off to Francheuil, to catch the
Dijon express and travel back with them. Don't be
frightened; I won't speak unless it's safe to. Trust me for
that--but I had to go."

She looked up slowly.

"He's gone to Dijon to meet his grandmother. Oh, I hope I
haven't made a mistake!"

"You? Why, what have you to do with his going to Dijon?"

She hesitated. "The day before yesterday I told him, for
the first time, that I meant to see him through, no matter
what happened. And I'm afraid he's lost his head, and will
be imprudent and spoil things. You see, I hadn't meant to
say a word to him till I'd had time to prepare Madame de
Chantelle."

She felt that Darrow was looking at her and reading her
thoughts, and the colour flew to her face. "Yes: it was
when I heard you were coming that I told him. I wanted him
to feel as I felt...it seemed too unkind to make him wait!"
Her hand was in his, and his arm rested for a moment on her
shoulder.

"It WOULD have been too unkind to make him wait."

They moved side by side toward the stairs. Through the haze