n across the stream with concentrated and delighted attention.

Then Amourette stole swiftly forward over the moss, swinging the heavy
silken net in her right hand, closer, closer. Suddenly the net whistled
in the air, glistened, lengthened, and fell, enmeshing Langdon; and, at
the same instant something behind her whistled and fell slap; and she
found herself struggling in the folds of an enormous butterfly net.

"Ethra! Help!" she cried, terrified, trying to keep her balance in the
web which enveloped her, striving to tear a way free through the meshes;
but she was only wrapped up the tighter; two brutal masculine arms lifted
her, held her cradled and entangled, freed the handle from the net, and
bore her swiftly away.

"Darling," whispered William Sayre, "d-don't kick."

"_You_!" she gasped, struggling frantically.

"The real thing, dearest of women! The old-fashioned, original cave man.
Will you come quietly? There's a license bureau in the next village. Or
shall I be obliged to keep right on carrying you?"

"Oh, oh, _oh_!" she sobbed; "what disgrace! what humiliation; what shame!
Oh, Ethra! Ethra! What in the world am I to do?"

"That's where the mistake arose," said William gently; "_you_ don't have
to do anything--except put both arms around my neck and--be careful not
to knock off my glasses."

"_Glasses_! Ethra! Ethra! Where are you? Don't you see what is becoming
of me? You--you had b-better hurry, too," she added with a sob, "because
the man who is carrying me off is the man I told you about. _Ethra_!
Where are you?"

A convenient echo replied in similar terms. Meanwhile Sayre was walking
faster and faster through the woods.

For a while she lay motionless and silent, cradled in his arms. And after
a long, long time she tried feebly to adjust the disordered ondulations
on her hair.

Then a very small, still voice said:

"Mr. Sayre?"

"Darling!"

She seemed to recognise this as her name.

"Mr. Sayre, w-what are you going to do with me?"

"Marry you."

"B-b-by f-f-force?"

"That is up to you, darling."

"Against my will?"

"That also is up to you."

"And--and my inclination?"

"No, not against that, Amourette."

"Do you dare believe I love you?"

"I should worry."

"Do you know you are hurting me, physically, spiritually, mentally?"

"I suppose I am."

"Do you realise that you are a brute?"

"I sure do. We're all of us a little in that line, Amourette."

After a long sile