The careless pen of a Parisian journalist once supplied the word "Apache" to the Parisian cut-throat, and thereby established an institution. Imagine, however, all the characteristics of the Apache who robs and slays without fear of consequences, concentrated in one person and imagine that person a girl of Paris, primitive, remorseless, soulless and free, and you have Zéle, the heroine of this novel.
ad spent the best part of an hour in each other's company, these two. Owen had simply carried her off from her surly cavalier, who had frowned, but said nothing, though Owen was quite aware all the time that he and his companion had been shadowed by an ill-omened figure, watched out of the corners of a pair of dull, grey eyes.
He was in nowise disconcerted. He was not the man to be afraid of an Apache or anything else.
Robin had croaked but then it was Robin's way to croak. "I think she is hateful," he had urged, "the personification of all that is bad. For Heaven's sake, Owen, leave her to her type as Rose says. They're well matched."
"I want a personification of all that is bad for my picture," Owen had retorted, and, after that, there was no more to be said.
"Why can't you sit for me now?" urged Owen.
The woman shrugged her narrow shoulders. "He won't let me. He would be furious. He is jealous mon Bibi--"
"Bother Bibi," retorted the man. "Are you so fond of him, th