as, however, convinced from what had
occurred that she had met the Celebrity in the East, and perhaps known
him.

Had she fallen in love with him, as was the common fate of all young
women he met? I changed my opinion on this subject a dozen times. Now I
was sure, as I looked at her, that she was far too sensible; again, a
doubt would cross my mind as the Celebrity himself would cross my view,
the girl on his arm reduced to adoration. I followed him narrowly when
in sight. Miss Thorn was watching him, too, her eyes half closed, as
though in thought. But beyond the fact that he threw himself into the
dance with a somewhat increased fervor, perhaps, his manner betokened no
uneasiness, and not even by a glance did he betray any disturbing
influence from above.

Thus we stood silently until the figure was finished, when Miss Thorn
seated herself in one of the wicker chairs behind us.

"Doesn't it make you wish to dance?" said Farrar to her. "It is hard
luck you should be doomed to spend the evening with two such useless
fellows as we are."

She did not catch his remark at first, as was natural in a person
preoccupied. Then she bit her lips to repress a smile.

"I assure you, Mr. Farrar," she said with force, "I have never in my life
wished to dance as little as I do now."

But a voice interrupted her, and the scarlet coat of the Celebrity was
thrust into the light between us. Farrar excused himself abruptly and
disappeared.

"Never wished to dance less!" cried the Celebrity. "Upon my word, Miss
Thorn, that's too bad. I came up to ask you to reconsider your
determination, as one of the girls from Asquith is leaving, and there is
an extra man."

"You are very kind," said Miss Thorn, quietly, "but I prefer to remain
here."

My surmise, then, was correct. She had evidently met the Celebrity, and
there was that in his manner of addressing her, without any formal
greeting, which seemed to point to a close acquaintance.

"You know Mr. Allen, then, Miss Thorn?" said I.

"What can you mean?" she exclaimed, wheeling on me; "this is not Mr.
Allen."

"Hang you, Crocker," the Celebrity put in impatiently; "Miss Thorn knows
who I am as well as you do."

"I confess it is a little puzzling," said she; "perhaps it is because I
am tired from travelling, and my brain refuses to work. But why in the
name of all that is strange do you call him Mr. Allen?"

The Celebrity threw himself into the chair beside her and asked
permi