n't suppose a man knows how a woman
hungers for that--for just sheer, elemental freedom."

He did not. He supposed that freedom was what women enjoyed from
birth--like queens. He supposed they even had especial opportunities
in that direction, and that most men were in the nature of being their
humble servitors.

"It is n't that I want to do anything especially proper or improper,"
she hastened to assure him. "I have n't either the cravings or the
ambitions of the new woman. That, again, is where I 'm selfish. I'd
like to be"--she spoke hesitatingly--"I'd like to be just like you,
Monte."

"Like me?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Free to do just what I want to do--nothing particularly good, nothing
particularly bad; free to go here or go there; free to live my own
life; free to be free."

"Well," he asked, "what's to prevent?"

"Teddy Hamilton--and the others," she answered. "In a way, they take
the place of Aunty. They won't let me alone. They won't believe me
when I tell them I don't want them around. They seem to assume that,
just because I'm not married-- Oh, they are stupid, Monte!"

Henri, who had been stealing in with course after course, refilled the
glasses. He smiled discreetly as he saw her earnest face.

"What you need," suggested Monte, "is a sort of chaperon or secretary."

She shook her head.

"Would you like one yourself?" she demanded.

"It would be a good deal of a nuisance," he admitted; "but, after all--"

"I won't have it!" she burst out. "It would spoil everything. It
would be like building one's own jail and employing one's own jailer.
I could n't stand that. I 'd rather be annoyed as I am than be annoyed
by a chaperon."

She was silent a moment, and then she exclaimed:

"Why, I'd almost rather marry Teddy! I'd feel freer--honestly, I think
I 'd feel freer with a husband than a chaperon."

"Oh, see here!" protested Monte. "You must n't do that."

"I don't propose to," she answered quietly.

"Then," he said, "the only thing left is to go away where Teddy and the
others can't find you."

"Where?" she asked with interest.

"There are lots of little villages in Switzerland."

She shook her head.

"And along the Riviera."

"I love the little villages," she replied. "I love them here and at
home. But it's no use."

She smiled. There was something pathetic about that smile--something
that made Covington's arm muscles twitch.

"I should n't even have the ai