"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.
Anne smiled maliciously. Her meaning was clear and the Prince flushed.
"What man would attempt it!" he exclaimed. "What man indeed," he added, "save one who would throw away his life to no purpose. Come, Miss Wellington, I am sure you do not seek my life."
"By no means," said the girl beginning to relent, but still enjoying the success of her coup. "But really that is a small leap for a man. My driver, I believe—" Her face suddenly lighted with a new inspiration. Hastily she walked to the top of the bluff. "McCall," she cried. "Will you come here a minute?"