The girl
Nevill loved had refused to marry him, but she smiled when she saw him,
and sent him post-cards when he was absent. There was hope for Nevill.
For him there was none; although--and it was as if a fierce hand seized
and wrenched his heart--sometimes it had seemed, in the last few hours,
that in Victoria Ray's smile for him there was the same lovely,
mysterious light which made the eyes of Josette Soubise wonderful when
she looked at Nevill. If it were not for Margot--but there was no use
thinking of that. He could not ask Margot to set him free, after all
that had passed, and even if he should ask, she would refuse. Shuddering
disgustfully, the thought of a new family scandal shot through his mind:
a breach-of-promise case begun by Margot against him, if he tried to
escape. It was the sort of thing she would do, he could not help
recognizing. Another _cause celebre_, more vulgar than the fight for his
brother's title! How Victoria would turn in shocked revulsion from the
hero of such a coarse tragi-comedy. But he would never be that hero. He
would keep his word and stick to Margot. When he should come to the
desert telegraph station between Toudja and Touggourt, he would wire to
the Carlton, where she thought of returning, and explain as well as he
could that, not expecting her quite yet, he had stayed on in Africa, but
would see her as soon as possible.
"Better hurry up and get ready for dinner!" shouted Nevill, through a
crack of their bedroom door.
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