"Nothing, nothing, child," she murmured, as in a dream. "Wait a moment. . .let me think. . .think!. . .You said. . .the Scarlet Pimpernel had gone today. . . . ?""Marguerite, CHERIE, what is it? You frighten me. . . .""It is nothing, child, I tell you. . .nothing. . .I must be alone a minute--and--dear one. . .I may have to curtail our time together to-day. . . . I may have to go away--you'll understand?""I understand that something has happened, CHERIE, and that you want to be alone. I won't be a hindrance to you. Don't think of me. My maid, Lucile, has not yet gone. . .we will go back together. . .don't think of me."She threw her arms impulsively round Marguerite. Child as she was, she felt the poignancy of her friend's grief, and with the infinite tact of her girlish tenderness, she did not try to pry into it, but was ready to efface herself.
She kissed Marguerite again and again, then walked sadly back across the lawn. Marguerite did not move, she remained there, thinking. . .wondering what was to be done.
