She sat below talking to Annette and singing a little Breton chanson: "Parvondt varbondt anan oun, Et die don la lire! Parvondt varbondt anan oun, Et die don la, la!" He called down to her presently.

"Andree!" "Yes." "Will you come up for a moment, please ?" "Surely." She came up, leaving the room door open, and bringing the cub with her.
He called Jacques.
"Take the cub to its quarters, Jacques," he said, quietly.
She seemed about to protest, but sat back and watched him.

He shut the door--locked it.

Then he came and sat down before her.
"Andree," he said, "this is all impossible." "What is impossible ?" "You know well.

I am not a mere brute.