CHAPTER XXVI.
THE UNIDEAL TESTED And neither was content.
Barfoot, over his cigar and glass of whisky at the hotel, fell into a mood of chagrin.

The woman he loved would be his, and there was matter enough for ardent imagination in the indulgence of that thought; but his temper disturbed him.

After all, he had not triumphed.

As usual the woman had her way.

She played upon his senses, and made him her obedient slave.