‘Of course you ought.’ Still she did not speak.The Baron sank into silence, and allowed his eye to rest on her. What thoughts were all at once engaging his mind after those moments of reproof? Margery had given herself into his hands without a remonstrance. Her husband had apparently deserted her. She was absolutely in his power, and they were on the high road.That his first impulse in inviting her to accompany him had been the legitimate one denoted by his words cannot reasonably be doubted. That his second was otherwise soon became revealed, though not at first to her, for she was too bewildered to notice where they were going. Instead of turning and taking the road to Jim's, the Baron, as if influenced suddenly by her reluctance to return thither if Jim was playing truant, signalled to the coachman to take the branch road to the right, as her father had discerned.They soon approached the coast near Idmouth. The carriage stopped. Margery awoke from her reverie.‘Where are we?’ she said, looking out of the window, with a start. Before her was an inlet of the sea, and in the middle of the inlet rode a yacht, its masts repeating as if from memory the rocking they had practised in their native forest.‘At a little sea-side nook, where my yacht lies at anchor,’ he said tentatively. ‘Now Margery, in five minutes we can be aboard, and in half an hour we can be sailing away all the world over. Will you come?’‘I cannot decide,’ she said in low tones. ‘Why not?’‘Because —’Then on a sudden, Margery seemed to see all contingencies: she became white as a fleece, and a bewildered look came into her eyes. With clasped hands she leant on the Baron.Baron von Xanten observed her distracted look, averted his face, and coming to a decision opened the carriage door, quickly mounted outside, and in a second or two the carriage left the shore behind, and ascended the road by which it had come.In about an hour they reached Jim Hayward's home. The Baron alighted, and spoke to her through the window. ‘Margery, can you forgive a lover's bad impulse, which I swear was unpremeditated?’ he asked. ‘If you can, shake my hand.’She did not do it, but eventually allowed him to help her out of the carriage. He seemed to feel the awkwardness keenly; and seeing it, she said, ‘Of course I forgive you, sir, for I felt for a moment as you did. Will you send my husband to me?’