And after all, if the price of a cup is the life of that brave little bird, I had rather shoot clay pigeons.

Now you will scorn me I suppose.

Begin!" "My ideal woman has never been a life-taker," he said coolly.

"Once, when I was a boy, there was a girl--very lovely--my first sweetheart.

I saw her at the traps once, just after she had killed her seventh pigeon straight, 'pulling it down' from overhead, you know--very clever--the little thing was breathing on the grass, and it made sounds--" He shrugged and walked on.