CHAPTER XXII CALAIS.
The weariest nights, the longest days, sooner or later must perforce come to an end.
Marguerite had spent over fifteen hours in such acute mental torture as well-nigh drove her crazy.

After a sleepless night, she rose early, wild with excitement, dying to start on her journey, terrified lest further obstacles lay in her way.

She rose before anyone else in the house was astir, so frightened was she, lest she should miss the one golden opportunity of making a start.
When she came downstairs, she found Sir Andrew Ffoulkes sitting in the coffee-room.

He had been out half an hour earlier, and had gone to the Admiralty Pier, only to find that neither the French packet nor any privately chartered vessel could put out of Dover yet.

The storm was then at its fullest, and the tide was on the turn.