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Boy! humph! I frowned, made myself long, and confessed I had the honor to be from that city. Whereupon she let her long-lashed eyes take on as ravishing a covetousness as though I had been a pretty baby.

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

"Oh, sir," cried Estelle, whose eyes, brows, lashes and hair were all of the same luminous red-brown, and in whose cheeks the rose seemed always to burn through the olive, "how can you and your people seek to kill such men as that?"

"No."

"Cruel to you?" I took her hand from my arm and held it.

"Why, who and what should I be?"

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