He looked at her reproachfully.

"Dear me, no! Why, you'll have to see me every day. I've got to look after you for a while." At her expression his tone changed. "You see," he said, with smiling seriousness, "you have shown that just for the present you can't be trusted to guide your own actions. So I'm going to 'stick around,' and guide them for a few days, until I am sure you are yourself again!"

"This--" again she choked on the words--"this is intolerable!"

"Oh, I don't think so. You can see for yourself that I mean well, and that I'm going to be a harmless sort of watch-dog. Also, you can depend on me to go off duty as soon as it's safe. But for the present you're going to have a guardian; and it's up to you to decide whether that guardian shall be Laurence Devon, very much at your service, or the police force of the city of New York."

She had her chin in her hands now, in her characteristic pose, and was regarding him without resentment. When she finally spoke, it was without resentment, too, but coldly, as one states an unpalatable fact.

"You," she said, "are a fool."

Laurie flushed, then smiled.

"That is not a new theory," he admitted.

"Two hours ago," she said, "I warned you that it would be dangerous for you to interfere in my affairs. Did I not?"

"You did."

"I warn you again. It may be a matter of life or death. Put your watch in your pocket, pay your bill, and take me home. Then go away and forget me."

Laurie glanced at the watch.

"We have used up eight minutes since I gave you your choice," he reminded her.

"You are like a child," she muttered, "spinning his top over a powder-magazine."

Laurie frowned a little.

"Too melodramatic," he murmured.

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