And a sister without an open right to the title: the mere fidelity of blood! His father had brought this sorrowful life into the world and he had made it more sorrowful--poor little thing--poor girl! "What are you going to do ?" asked Andree.

"Do you go back--with Delia ?" He winced.

Yet why should he expect of her too great refinement?
She had not had a chance, she had not the stuff for it in her veins; she had never been taught.

But behind it all was her passion--her love--for him.
"You know that's altogether impossible!" he answered.
"She would not take you back." "Probably not.

She has pride." "Pride-chat! She'd jump at the chance!" "That sounds rude, Andree; and it is contradictory." "Rude! Well, I'm only a gipsy and a dompteuse!" "Is that all, my girl ?" "That's all, now." Then, with a sudden change and a quick sob: "But I may be--Oh, I can't say it, Gaston!" She hid her face for a moment on his shoulder.