Then, with a shrug, he added lightly: "But we shan't meet again.

I'm leaving England next week.

That settles it." Without giving her time to make any rejoinder he opened the street-door and stood aside for her to pass out.

A minute later she was in the taxi, and he was standing bare-headed on the pavement beside it.
"Good-bye," she said.

"Good-bye--_Saint Michel_." His hand closed round hers in a grip that almost crushed the slender fingers.
"_You_!" he cried hoarsely.