Two Apaches of Paris
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