"It wouldn't be fair to the Institute to risk losing those old bones out there on the rocks by risking these bones. That, you see, is the comparative values of the products of the Mesozoic and the Quaternary periods. It may be a distortion, but it's my job."
"Then," declared Stamford firmly, "you're not going to save your bones and risk your sister, until we've tried the ford without her. I'm going with you myself."
"How ingenuous! How sim——"
Stamford raised a warning finger.
"Not that, Professor, not that! To date we're even. If you reopen the feud, I swear I'll have the last word, if I have to leave it set in type."
The Professor's eyes twinkled about the room.
"If my dead body is picked up among the cliffs, here's the murderer. I can't always be sure of having Isabel along to protect me."
"I'm afraid, Mr. Stamford," said Isabel, "he's grown rather dependent on me."
"Then he can't learn independence earlier," persisted Stamford.
"And he's going to need it some day," laughed Cockney. "There are other men, Miss Bulkeley."