"Dearest," she said, in his arms, "I never want to leave you again.

France is no longer France for me since I have England in my heart." "You remember that?
My wonderful Princess!" He found her more woman, more expansive, more bewitchingly caressing.
Absence had but brought her nearer.

When she laid her head on his shoulder and murmured in the deep and subtle tones of her own language: "My Paul, it seems such a waste of time to be apart," it took all his pride and will to withstand the maddening temptation.

He vowed that the time would soon come when he could claim her, and went away in feverish search for worlds to conquer.
Then came October and London once more.
* * * * * Paul was dressing for dinner one evening when a reply-paid telegram was brought to him.
"If selected by local committee will you stand for Hickney Heath?
Ayres." He sat on his bed, white and trembling, and stared at the simple question.

The man-servant stood imperturbable, silver tray in hand.
Seeing the reply-paid form, he waited for a few moments.
"Is there an answer, sir ?" Paul nodded, asked for a pencil, and with a shaky hand wrote the reply.
"Yes," was all he said.
Then with reaction came the thrill of mighty exultation, and, throwing on his clothes, he rushed to the telephone in his sitting room.