The greatest pain Michael Arranstoun had ever experienced came into his heart, and without waiting a second he turned on his heel and went back to the house.

Here he had a bath and changed his clothes, while his servant packed, and then, with the help of Madame Imogen, he looked up a train.

Yes, there was a fast one which went to Paris from their nearest little town--he could just catch it by ordering Henry's motor--this he promptly did--and leaving the best excuses he could invent with Madame Imogen, he got in and departed a few minutes before his hostess and Lord Fordyce came back to tea at five.
He had written a short note to Sabine--which Nicholas handed to her.
She opened it with trembling fingers; this was all it was: I understand--and I will get the divorce as soon as the law will allow, and I will try to arrange that Henry need never know.

I would like you just to have come to Arranstoun once more--perhaps I can persuade Henry to bring you there in the autumn.
Michael Arranstoun.
It was as well that Lord Fordyce had gone up to his room--for the lady of Heronac grew white as death for a moment, and then crumpling the note in her hand she staggered up the old stone stairs to her great sitting-room.
So he had gone then--and they could have no explanation.

But he had come out of the manger--and was going to let the other animal eat the hay.
This, however, was very poor comfort and brought no consolation on its wings.