"Who can cope with the duplicity of a woman?" I retorted. "But, Lisbeth, you will give me one--just one?"
"It would spoil the pair."
"Oh, very well," I sighed, "good-night, Lisbeth," and lifting my cap I turned away.
There came a ripple of laughter behind me, something struck me softly upon the cheek, and, stooping, I picked up that which lay half unrolled at my feet, but when I looked round Lisbeth was gone.
So presently I thrust "them" into my pocket and walked back slowly along the river path toward the hospitable shelter of the Three Jolly Anglers.
CHAPTER II
THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM
To sit beside a river on a golden afternoon listening to its whispered melody, while the air about one is fragrant with summer, and heavy with the drone of unseen wings!--What ordinary mortal could wish for more?
And yet, though conscious of this fair world about me, I was still uncontent, for my world was incomplete--nay, lacked its most essential charm, and I sat with my ears on the stretch, waiting for Lisbeth's chance footstep on the path and the soft whisper of her skirts.
The French are indeed a great people, for among many other things they alone have caught that magic sound a woman's garments make as she walks, and given it to the world in the one word "frou-frou."