that, if she had remained, Yvonne would have been too near me in the enterprise.  I could not at first have been my natural self with her.  I told the astonished and dissatisfied Yvonne that I would write to her as soon as I wanted her.  Yet in other ways I had courage, and I found a delicious pleasure in my courage.  When I was finally leaving the hotel I had Frank by my side.  I behaved to him as to a husband.  I publicly called him ‘dear.’  I asked his advice in trifles.  He paid my bill.  He even provided the money necessary for Yvonne.  My joy in the possession of this male creature, whose part it now was to do for me a thousand things that hitherto I had been forced to do for myself, was almost naive.  I could not hide it.  I was at last a man’s woman.  I had a protector.  Yes; I must not shrink from the equivocal significance of that word—­I had a protector.

Frank was able to get three rooms at the Hotel de Paris at Monte Carlo.  I had only to approve them.  We met in our sitting-room at half-past three, ready to go out for a walk.  It would be inexact to say that we were not nervous.  But we were happy.  He had not abandoned his straw hat.

‘Don’t wear that any more,’ I said to him, smiling.

‘But why?  It’s quite new.’

‘It doesn’t suit you,’ I said.

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ he laughed, and he put it on.

‘But I don’t like to see you in it,’ I persisted.

’Well, you’ll stand it this afternoon, my angel, and I’ll get another to-morrow.’

‘Haven’t you got another one here?’ I asked, with discontent.

‘No,’ and he laughed again.

‘But, dear—­’ I pouted.

He seemed suddenly to realize that as a fact I did not like the hat.

‘Come here,’ he said, charmingly grave; and he led me by the hand into his bedroom, which was littered with clothes, small parcels, boots, and brushes.  One chair was overturned.

‘Heavens!’ I muttered, pretending to be shocked at the disorder.

He drew, me to a leather box of medium size.

‘You can open it,’ he said.

I opened it.  The thing was rather a good contrivance, for a man.  It held a silk hat, an opera hat, a bowler hat, some caps, and a soft Panama straw.

‘And you said you had no others!’ I grumbled at him.

‘Well, which is it to be?’ he demanded.

‘This, of course,’ I said, taking the bowler.  I reached up, removed the straw hat from his head, and put the bowler in its place.  ‘There!’ I exclaimed, satisfied, giving the bowler a pat—­there!’

He laughed, immensely content, enraptured, foolishly blissful.  We were indeed happy.  Before opening the door leading to the corridor we stopped and kissed.