est in the Moorish Pretender than she did in
the pretender who walked by her side.

He was not in the best of tempers when he brought her back to the Villa
Casa, and Jean, who entertained him whilst Lydia was changing, saw that
his first advances had not met with a very encouraging result.

"There will be no wedding bells, Jean," he said.

"You take a rebuff very easily," said the girl, but he shook his head.

"My dear Jean, I know women as well as I know the back of my hand, and I
tell you that there's nothing doing with this girl. I'm not a fool."

She looked at him earnestly.

"No, you're not a fool," she said at last. "You're hardly likely to make
a mistake about that sort of thing. I'm afraid you'll have to do
something more romantic."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You'll have to run away with her; and like the knights of old carry off
the lady of your choice."

"The knights of old didn't have to go before a judge and jury and serve
seven years at Dartmoor for their sins," he said unpleasantly.

She was sitting on a low chair overlooking the sea, whittling a twig
with a silver-handled knife she had taken from her bag--a favourite
occupation of hers in moments of cogitation.

"All the ladies of old didn't go to the police," she said. "Some of them
were quite happy with their powerful lords, especially delicate-minded
ladies who shrank from advertising their misfortune to the readers of
the Sunday press. I think most women like to be wooed in the cave-man
fashion, Marcus."

"Is that the kind of treatment you'd like, Jean?"

There was a new note in his voice. Had she looked at him she would have
seen a strange light in his eyes.

"I'm merely advancing a theory," she said, "a theory which has been
supported throughout the ages."

"I'd let her go and her money, too," he said. He was speaking quickly,
almost incoherently. "There's only one woman in the world for me, Jean,
and I've told you that before. I'd give my life and soul for her."

He bent over, and caught her arm in his big hand.

"You believe in the cave-man method, do you?" he breathed. "It is the
kind of treatment you'd like, eh, Jean?"

She did not attempt to release her arm.

"Keep your hand to yourself, Marcus, please," she said quietly.

"You'd like it, wouldn't you, Jean? My God, I'd sacrifice my soul for
you, you little devil!"

"Be sensible," she said. It was not her words or her firm tone that made
him draw back. Twice and