"She must have a chaperon, to begin with," thought Harley. "That is
indispensable. Herring, Beemer, & Chadwick regard themselves as
conservators of public morals, in their 'Blue and Silver Series,' so
a girl unmarried and without a chaperon would never do for this book.
If they were to publish it in their 'Yellow Prism Series' I could
fling all such considerations to the winds, for there they cater to
stronger palates, palates cultivated by French literary cooks, and
morals need not be considered, provided the story is well told and
likely to sell; but this is for the other series, and a chaperon is a
sine qua non. Marguerite doesn't need one half as much as the girls
in the 'Yellow Prism' books, but she's got to have one just the same,
or the American girl will not read about her: and who is better than
Dorothy Willard, who has charge of her now?"

Harley slapped his knee with delight.

"How fortunate I'd provided her!" he said. "I've got my start
already, and without having to think very hard over it either."

The trance began again, and lasted several hours, during which time
Kelly and the Professor stole softly into Harley's rooms, and,
perceiving his condition, respected it.

"He's either asleep or imagining," said the Professor, in a whisper.

"He can't imagine," returned the Doctor. "Call it--realizing.
Whatever it is he's up to, we mustn't interfere. There isn't any use
waking him anyhow. I know where he keeps his cigars. Let's sit down
and have a smoke."