“No, it did not,” I answered positively.

“Nevertheless, he has,” she went on, in all apparent seriousness.  “He drives almost as well as Uncle Farquhar, dances well, and is a capital paddle.”

“You were speaking of qualities, not accomplishments,” I said.  A horrible suspicion that she was having a little fun at my expense crossed my mind.

Very good, then.  You must admit that he is generous to a fault, amiable; and persevering, else he would never have attained the position he enjoys.  And his affection for you, Mr. Crocker, is really touching, considering how little he gets in return.”

“Come, Miss Thorn,” I said severely, “this is ridiculous.  I don’t like him, and never shall.  I liked him once, before he took to writing drivel.  But he must have been made over since then.  And what is more, with all respect to your opinion, I don’t believe he likes me.”

Miss Thorn straightened up with dignity and said: 

“You do him an injustice.  But perhaps you will learn to appreciate him before he leaves Mohair.”

“That is not likely,” I replied—­not at all pleasantly, I fear.  And again I thought I observed in her the same desire to laugh she had before exhibited.

And all the way back her talk was of nothing except the Celebrity.  I tried every method short of absolute rudeness to change the subject, and went from silence to taciturnity and back again to silence.  She discussed his books and his mannerisms, even the growth of his popularity.  She repeated anecdotes of him from Naples to St. Petersburg, from Tokio to Cape Town.  And when we finally stopped under the porte cochere I had scarcely the civility left to say good-bye.

I held out my hand to help her to the ground, but she paused on the second step.

“Mr. Crocker,” she observed archly, “I believe you once told me you had not known many girls in your life.”

“True,” I said; “why do you ask?”

“I wished to be sure of it,” she replied.

And jumping down without my assistance, she laughed and disappeared into the house.

THE CELEBRITY

By Winston Churchill

VOLUME 3.

CHAPTER IX

That evening I lighted a cigar and went down to sit on the outermost pile of the Asquith dock to commune with myself.  To say that I was disappointed in Miss Thorn would be to set a mild value on my feelings.  I was angry, even aggressive, over her defence of the Celebrity.  I had gone over to Mohair that day with a hope that some good reason was at the bottom of her tolerance for him, and had come back without any hope.  She not only tolerated him, but, wonderful to be said, plainly liked him.  Had she not praised him, and defended him, and become indignant when I spoke my mind about him?  And I would have taken my oath, two weeks before, that nothing short of hypnotic influence could have changed her.  By her own confession she had come to Asquith with her eyes opened, and, what was more, seen another girl wrecked on the same reef.