"Stop! I want you to," she interrupted. "You must. You must not say such things--" she paused, conscious that the eyes of many to whom she had purposed presenting the Prince were turned curiously upon them, although fortunately, from distances comparatively remote. She forced a vivacious smile for the benefit of observers and continued, "You must not say these things until I tell you you may. . . . Now, please!" as the Prince showed indications of disobeying her wishes. He kept silence and as some manifestations of sulkiness, not inclined to encourage Anne in her intentions of introducing him generally, revealed themselves, she turned and led the way back to the car, where Armitage sat hunched, in no blithe mood himself. In plying him with questions as to himself and his deeds, which developed a mood ardently vainglorious, Anne skilfully led Koltsoff's trend of thought from amatory channels. They stopped at Paradise and Anne and the Prince walked from the roadside across a stretch of gorse to a great crevice in the cliffs, known as the "Lover's Leap." "Here," said the girl, imitating the manner of a guide, "legend says an Indian maiden, very beautiful, was walking with one of her suitors, when a rival accosted them. They drew their knives and were about to fight, when the girl interposed. Pointing to the chasm she declared she would marry the man who first jumped across it." "Ah, the time-worn lover's leap! They have them in England, Russia, Germany--everywhere. America not to be behind--" the Prince wrinkled his brows. "Let me see how closely the Indians followed their European originals. Did they leap?" "They did," smiled the girl. "Both, I believe, were killed." She peered into the dark fissure where the waters wound among the crags fifty feet below. "Ugh! What a fall! Their love must have been wonderfully compelling." "So," replied the Prince, gallantly, "and yet I should do it for a smile from you or at most for a--" he bowed low, seized her hand, and deftly bore it to his lips. She drew it away hastily, a wave of irritation flushing her face, and a powerful revulsion from her former mood of exaltation took possession of her whole being. "You have improved upon knights errant of old," she said slowly. "You seize your guerdon before paying your devoir." She pointed to the chasm, which was about eight feet across at the spot where they were standing. "Your lady waits, Sir Knight." The Prince pushed his hand through his hair and laughed. "Miss Wellington--indeed, indeed, I appreciate your humor. It is well caught. That is to say--ha, ha! Your father will enjoy your wit." "I am waiting," said the girl, as though she had not heard. "Knights--and gentlemen do not take from women that which they are not willing to pay for." "But--" the Prince glanced at the yawning hole. "You surely jest. Why, my dear lady!" The Prince involuntarily stepped backward.