lovely a woman as Léontine and never lift a hand. This man couldn't, at that time, so I caught her in my arms and gave her a squeeze that made her gasp, big strong woman that she was. But she must have felt the lack of fire in it and as I loosed my grip she laid one of her gauntleted hands on my chest and pushed herself away, while her clear, curious eyes looked searchingly into mine.
"Frank," she said in her rich voice, "are you really free? Your own man—and mine?"
"I'm free all right," I answered, "but neither yours nor mine, my dear girl."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Come over here in the summer-house and I will tell you all about it," I answered.
When we were in the little pagoda I told her the whole story. Léontine listened in silence.
". … So you see," I finished, "my word is passed and I'm going to make good. I've done with everything belonging to the old life."
Léontine began to trace figures in the dust with the loop of her riding crop. Presently she said:
"And are you content to give up your freedom as tamely as this?"
"I gave it up," said I, "when I tackled that agent to keep the rest of you from getting pinched."
She looked at me quickly and her eyes darkened.
"Ah, that was splendid," says she, "—that was glorious. Oh, Frank, nobody will ever know what I suffered that night. If Ivan and Chu-Chu had not held me fast I would have leaped out of the car and shot that policeman. When they got me home I was like a mad woman. They locked me in my room and
