and unselfish way, and I believe that he would have tried to redeem her to a course of right living if the scheme of their lives had been planned differently; but I do not believe that Léontine could ever have cared for Ivan other than as a sympathetic friend. Chu-Chu himself would have stood a better chance. Ivan was too gentle physically, and Léontine had much of the savage in her composition. To win her desire a man would have had first to dominate her, mind and body. Women of the Léontine sort are better wooed with a club and an oath than with flowers and a song.
Yet there was plenty of savage tenderness in her, as I now saw, and there was something beautiful and touching in her grief over the dead criminal. Her sorrow was generous and sincere, and unmindful of the ugly position she was in. She was thinking only of the brilliant, fascinating, and even lovable personality blotted out in two brief minutes as he sat at her hospitable board.
I was thinking of the other, however, if Léontine was not; and it seemed to me there was a lot of trouble ahead. I got up and shut the two doors and locked them, then stepped to Léontine's side and raised her from beside the divan and placed her in a chair.
"We must decide on what steps to take, my dear," I said firmly. "Here we have a dead man and a bowlful of poisoned peach ice-cream, and no very plausible explanation of the circumstances to offer. What's to be done?"
Léontine pulled herself together with some effort.
"I don't know, Frank. I don't seem able to
