"Five minutes gone! Have you seen him leave?" "No, Monte," she answered. He folded his arms resignedly. "You don't really mean to act against my wishes, Monte?" "If that's the only way of getting rid of him," he answered coolly. "But don't you see--don't you understand that you will only make a scandal of it?" she said. "What do you mean?" "If he makes a scene it will be in the papers, and then--oh, well, they will ask by what right--" "I'd answer I was simply ridding you of a crazy man." "They would smile. Oh, I know them! Here in Paris they won't believe that a woman who is n't married--" She stopped abruptly. Monte's brows came together. Here was the same situation that had confronted him a few minutes before. Not only had he no right, but if he assumed a right his claim might be misinterpreted. Undoubtedly Teddy himself would be the first to misinterpret it. It would be impossible for a man of his sort to think in any other direction. And then--well, such stories were easier to start than to stop. Monte's lips came together. As far as he himself was concerned, he was willing to take the risk; but the risk was not his to take. As long as he found himself unable to devise any scheme by which he could, even technically, make himself over into her father, her brother, or even a first cousin, there appeared no possible way in which he could assume the right that would not make it a risk. Except one way. Here Monte caught his breath. There was just one relationship open to him that would bestow upon him automatically the undeniable right to say to Teddy Hamilton anything that might occur to him--that would grant him fuller privileges, now and for as long as the relationship was maintained, than even that of blood.