"You can't kill that kind of a snake with a hat-pin; you have to stamp on its head. But I rather believe it will be some time before Mr. Craig will again make the mistake of insulting a woman because she appears to be defenseless." Elsa's chin was in the air. The choking sensation in her throat began to subside. "The deadly hat-pin; can't you see the story in the newspapers? Well, I for one am not afraid to use it. You know and the purser knows what happened on the boat to Mandalay. He was plausible and affable and good-looking, and the mistake was mine. I seldom make them. I kept quiet because the boat was full-up, and as a rule I hate scenes. Men like that know it. If I had complained, he would have denied his actions, inferred that I was evil-minded. He would have been shocked at my misinterpreting him. Heavens, I know the breed! Now, not a single word of this to any one. Mr. Craig, I fancy, will be the last person to speak of it." "You had better put the pin back into your hat," suggested Martha. "Pah! I had forgotten it." Elsa flung the weapon far into the street. Once they turned into Merchant Street, both felt the tension relax, Martha would have liked to sit down, even on the curb. "I despise men," she volunteered. "I am beginning to believe that few of them are worth a thought. Those who aren't fools are knaves." "Are you sure of your judgment in regard to this man Warrington? How can you tell that he is any different from that man Craig?" "He is different, that is all. This afternoon he will come to tea. I shall want you to be with us. Remember, not a word of this disgraceful affair." "Ah, Elsa, I am afraid; I am more afraid of Warrington than of a man of Craig's type." "And why?" "It sounds foolish, but I can't explain. I am just afraid of him." "Bother! You talk like an old maid." "And I am one, by preference." "We are always quarreling, Martha; and it doesn't do either of us any good. When you oppose me, I find that that is the very thing I want to do. You haven't any diplomacy." "I would gladly cultivate it if I thought it would prove effectual," was the retort. "Try it," advised Elsa dryly. Warrington's appearance that afternoon astonished Elsa. She had naturally expected some change, but scarcely such elegance. He was, without question, one of the handsomest men she had ever met. He was handsomer than Arthur because he was more manly in type. Arthur himself, an exquisite in the matter of clothes, could not have improved upon this man's taste or selection. What a mystery he was! She greeted him cordially, without restraint; but for all that, a little shiver stirred the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck. "The most famous man in Rangoon to-day," she said, smiling. "So you have read that tommy-rot in the newspaper?"