The days which succeeded that night’s adventure were placid. Carmel awoke in the morning as one awakes after a singularly realistic dream. It was a dream to her, unreal, impossible. She could not imagine herself doing what she had done; in short, she knew she had never done it. That she should have let off a firearm at human beings was an act so impossible as to make it seem laughable. She went to the office with apprehension. What would happen? How would Gibeon receive the news? Her apprehensions were needless. Gibeon received the news apathetically. In the first place, the town did not know exactly what had happened and was inclined to place little credence in rumors. Most of it strolled past the office before noon, seeking with wary eye for evidences of the war, and finding none. A scanty few passed through the door to speak with Carmel about it. Apparently Gibeon was not interested. Somehow this hurt Carmel’s pride. Girl-like, she felt herself to be something of a heroine, and wanted folks to recognize her eminence. But even her own staff seemed not to take that view of the matter. Tubal was sullen; Simmy was silent and frightened; Evan Bartholomew Pell failed to revert to the matter at all. He had retired more deeply than ever within his shell of pedanticism, and his supercilious air was more irritating than ever before. Carmel was hurt. She did not know how shaken Evan Pell was, nor the effect upon him of his discovery that a woman could be of such importance in his life as he found Carmel to be. With women he had no dealings and no experience. They had been negligible in his life, existing only academically, so to speak. Women and fossil specimens and remnants of ancient civilizations and flora and fauna had occupied somewhat similar positions in his experience, with women in the least interesting position. He did not know them as human beings at all. They had never troubled him in the least. Nothing had ever troubled him greatly. He had always considered them in the mass, as a genus, to be studied, perhaps, as all created things should be studied. But never until Carmel’s advent had he entertained the idea that one of them might become personally important to him. Evan would have been no more astonished to find himself involved with a diplodocus than he now was to discover his throbbing personal interest in an individual woman. He was angry with Carmel. Somehow she had done something to him. He was affronted. He had been taken advantage of, and now he was considering what action to take. Decidedly Carmel must be put in her place, once for all, and the disagreeable situation with all its dreadful possibilities must be terminated with finality. Evan turned in his chair and felt for his glasses, which were absent. “Miss Lee,” he said, in his most pedagogical voice, “may I have your attention briefly?” Carmel faced him with some trepidation.