To-night we leave for Marseilles. I ought to be able to think things out. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road.
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