"Well then, I'm 'that woman of the name of Langham.'"
"You!" he exclaimed.
Then he laughed.
"Pansy, you're a little creature of rare surprises."
The surprise held him silent for some moments. Or else it was sufficient to have the girl there, unresisting against his heart.
Up till now Pansy had avoided all male arms as far as it was possible for a girl who was beautiful, wealthy and light-hearted. Whenever caught she had wriggled out indignantly.
From the arm that held her now she made no attempt to escape. A fearsome fascination lay within its embrace. It seemed that he would have but to close the hand that rested on her bosom, and her heart would be in his grip, snatched out of her keeping before she knew it.
Suddenly it dawned on Pansy that if she stayed there much longer she would want to stay for ever.
One by one she lifted the sinewy, brown fingers from her dress, holding them in one hand as she went about her task with the other.
With a slight smile Le Breton watched her. But when the last of his fingers was removed, she was still a prisoner, held secure within his arm.