pictures. And you did say 'je t'aime,' and you did kiss me—so many times." She paused, with her straight brows knotted. She was moved beyond her English, and yet she dimly felt that it brought her more to the level of the man. "Since you did go—I think I have perhaps not make very happy. I feel I want you come back. I think of you tout le—all times. I not want to be touch. I slap Jimmy when he put his arm round me. He say, 'Why you slap?' I say, 'I not know,' It is you would know, I s'pose. You make it so."
She stood very still, looking at him with innocent, appealing eyes. He walked through the little room restlessly. Yes, he knew. But that did not seem likely to simplify the matter in the very least. Then he turned to her, making his first cowardly step of retreat.
"You must understand that it is not customary for a girl to come and talk like this to a man, my dear," he said. "It was faire jouer only. You have no right to think more of it."
"But I have all the right," said Andree gravely. "I feel it here—in my coeur—my—my top 'tomick."
"Then I had no right to give you the right. Forget it."
"Mais—what do that mean?"
His face looked drawn and dark. The slight smile on his lips was bitter. He hated himself for the part he must play. And yet there was no way out but the one. If he could rouse the wild animal fury in her it would be easier to meet than this attitude which stirred his pity. But he hesitated before open brutality to a woman. Then he said:
"It means that I am tired of you. It means that I have treated you as you have treated plenty of men, Grange's Andree."
"Then—what make me feel—so—for you?" she asked.
"The Devil knows. He has had a fairly large share in this business all through."
"But," cried Andree, in the tone of one suddenly awakened. "But I want you. That make you want me because I want you."
"Not by chalks. How about Tempest?"
"But—it is me—me who want you," insisted Andree; and then Dick laughed, laying his arms on the back of
