The Washington times., 1913-12-31
CHAPTER XVIII.

was MS last day In France. And
he had intended 1t to be such q
CHEEKY one They were to have
picnicked on the sands. to have talk
ed and laugbed-Toinette would be very
brave-and had such a tender ieavetak-
ing that the train would have carried
him to Boulogne before either of them
realized that the parting was over.
1t had all been arranged so cefy~in
his mind. without a single tear-or per-
haps Just one at the very last moment
And then England-London, with its
work. not too much, its dinners, its
dances. everything to cheer him up and
help him to fill I'D the hole made by her
absence, to forget her-at any rate, for
time. while he was trying to make an
income Perhaps. with decent luck, he
would be able to return. independent Of
his father. and then
But the reality was horribly different.
His last day? He would never forget
1.-THE hideous pacing of the sands, ar
gcing round and round in circle, curs-
ing himself for what he had dono, wish
ing that he had never come to the place,
never met her, never been born.
1t was a day of torture. After Toi-
nette left him he wandered aimlessly
back across the links. where the sight
of the three Englishmen from the Cafe
Tardot put him into q state of blasphe-
nous and unreasoning rage. So he hur-
ried back to the cafe and threw his
things into the suit case and kit bag, al
most decided to so at once. J
But II was impossible to go without
seeing Toinette again, without trying to
put things right as far as possible, to
comfort her as best he could He went
ate things which all tasted the same,
and then hurried away from the cafe
down to the seashore. She was coming
in the afternoon.
Hour after hour he hung above the
cave. lighting one cigarette from an
other until his lips were dry and cracked
He hurried along to the dunes to see IL
she had gone there by mistake. He
went back to the cafe to see IL there
was any message from her. He re-
turned to the cave and waited again.
and all the time he reproached himself
II only he had not climbed into her
room; il only he had been able to con-
tent himself with her kisses.
He watched the sun climb up the sky
and then begin to lengthen the shadows
as 1t went slowly down the other side.
more slowly than it had ever gone be-
fore. The tide turned and began to
come in again, and still he remained at
the cave. and the sun sank lower and
had gone away, leaving the beach a
silent, still place, hardly a murmu
reaching him as the sea crept up from
the far ebb.
He was sitting with his chin in his
hands, his elbows propped on his knees,
gazing out on the misty horizon, when
she suddenly appeared from space.
The sun had set and the light vas
quickly fading, but he could see that
she was very pale. He rose stiffly, his
limbs aching from the strain Of sitting
long in the same position. THANK God
you've come" he said quickly. Il
thought"
Toinette put her hand on his arm
I'D yt-fth
row. / will leave my father and my
home and my country If you VII take
me with you. You have your work.
Let me work with you, for you l will
cook and sew and wash clothes. will
be very useful and help you. ] will try
not to be in the way. and will do m
best to be a good daughter to your
father and mother. What time do we
have to go? 1 have made all prepara-
tions."
Evera-d gasped. He looked to see IL
she were not joking. Surely she could
not realize what she was suggesting, the
utter impossibility Of it. A picture of
his parents-his smart, perfectly gowned
mother his well-groomed father-fiash
into his mind as they met him coming
up the steps with the little French girl
in her cheap frocks. The cynical amuse-
ment and disgust upon their faces made
him feel cold and uncomfortable.
But Toinettes face remained very
grave. There was no suggestion OF fun
in those deep black eyes. She had de-
cided that such an enormous sacrifice
was not a sacrifice at all. She would be
going where love led, where her whole |
being demanded that she should go.
Heavens said Everard. ''If only !
could take you. Toinette: But it is i'm |
possible. 1t cannot be done I" He
broke OF with a helpless shrug of the |
shoulders. Il cannot take you.''
Then Toinette's eyes flashed and her |
fists clenched. She stamped her foot. |
You must take me- Do you hear2 You
musti have given you my heart, my
soul, eyerything-and now you say you !
are leaving me. deserting met 1t is in |
famous! You cannot 90. You 90 not |
love me. Everard. you must not goI' !
and burst into violent weeping. "Oh! !
dog', dny '0o' WHAT Cd" l oo' what can !
Eyerard PIT his arms round her shak- |
ing shoulders, "Toinette this is horri- |
ble,'' he said. "Toinette, Toinette! do |
you not see that ! must go, that it's i'm |
possible for me TO remain and impossi- |
ble to take you? How could we marry? |
have no money. 1 am earning nothing |
We should starve. DO not cry, little |
one. ! imploTe you, be brave!'' |
He held her tight and kissed her hair, |
her nands. His eyes were very moist |
and his heart was humping The girl |
clupg 10 him passionately, and through !
her tears came broken mUrmur i'm |
Dloring him to stay, imploring him 10 !
take her.
= The light had failed 1T was quite |
lark, with only the stars peeping down |
ut the two as they stood together out
SIDE the cave. the two children who had |