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somebody, you! You are an artist, a very great artistl

Borek only laughed. Still laughing, he kissed her again, and then she shut her eyes, and he bent her head back so that her body curved and she would have fallen, had he not caught her, lifting her almost off her feet.

"Ti amo! Ti atno!" Rosa sighed, capitulating.

Then came the murmur of Borek's voice, soft, caressing, inaudible. Their two heads, the dark head and the tawny head, were very close together.

Lina left them. . .

She returned to her own room and permitted Marie to dress her in complete silence. Then, still m silence, she walked out of the stage-door and across the square

toward her hotel.

In the plaza men lounged and eyed her with a bold appraising stare, but they made no attempt to molest her. The males of San Pablo, a simple race much addicted to plumpness in the opposite sex, saw the great Varsoyma merely as a richly dressed, foreign woman, skinny, holloweyed, almost grotesque, from an amatory point of view.

Nor did Lina notice these men. She noticed nothing. She held her head high and walked on briskly toward the portals of the pink-sugar hotel.

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