“I knew that would happen to papa if I only waited long enough,” she said.  “Oh, he thinks you’re dreadful, Mr. Crocker.  He says that nowadays young men haven’t any principle.  I mustn’t be seen talking to you.”

“I have been trying to convince Mr. Crocker that his stand in the matter is not only immoral, but suicidal,” said Miss Thorn.  “Perhaps,” she added meaningly, “he will listen to you.”

“I don’t understand,” answered Miss Trevor.

“Miss Thorn has been good enough to point out,” I explained, “that the political machine in this section, which has the honor to detest me, will seize upon the pretext of the Celebrity’s capture to ruin me.  They will take the will for the deed.”

“Of course they will do just that,” cried Miss Trevor.  “How bright of you to think of it, Marian!”

Miss Thorn stood up.

“I leave you to persuade him,” said she; “I have no doubt you will be able to do it.”

With that she left us, quite suddenly.  Abruptly, I thought.  And her manner seemed to impress Miss Trevor.

“I wonder what is the matter with Marian,” said she, and leaned over the skylight.  “Why, she has gone down to talk with the Celebrity.”

“Isn’t that rather natural?” I asked with asperity.

She turned to me with an amused expression.

“Her conduct seems to worry you vastly, Mr. Crocker.  I noticed that you were quite upset this morning in the cave.  Why was it?”

“You must have imagined it,” I said stiffly.

“I should like to know,” she said, with the air of one trying to solve a knotty problem, “I should like to know how many men are as blind as you.”

“You are quite beyond me, Miss Trevor,” I answered; “may I request you to put that remark in other words?”

“I protest that you are a most unsatisfactory person,” she went on, not heeding my annoyance.  “Most abnormally modest people are.  If I were to stick you with this hat-pin, for instance, you would accept the matter as a positive insult.”

“I certainly should,” I said, laughing; “and, besides, it would be painful.”

“There you are,” said she, exultingly; “I knew it.  But I flatter myself there are men who would go into an ecstasy of delight if I ran a hat-pin into them.  I am merely taking this as an illustration of my point.”

“It is a very fine point,” said I.  “But some people take pleasure in odd things.  I can easily conceive of a man gallant enough to suffer the agony for the sake of pleasing a pretty girl.”

“I told you so,” she pouted; “you have missed it entirely.  You are hopelessly blind on that side, and numb.  Perhaps you didn’t know that you have had a hat-pin sticking in you for some time.”

I began feeling myself, nervously.

“For more than a month,” she cried, “and to think that you have never felt it.”  My action was too much for her gravity, and she fell back against the skylight in a fit of merriment, which threatened to wake her father.  And I hoped it would.