_O sancta simplicitas_! Mary longed to say; that Cynthia was a very
ordinary child. Like to talk to him, indeed! Of course she did; and to
use her girl's weapons on him; and to wonder, in an almost awestruck
delight, at their effect on this dazzling hero. Well, the guilelessness
of heroes!

So mused Mary, on the unprofessional side of her mind, as she watched,
that Christmastide, Captain Alec's delicate, sensitively indirect, and
delayed approach toward the ripe fruit that hung so ready to his hand.
"Part of his chivalry to assume she can't think of him yet!" Mary was
half-impatient, half-reluctantly admiring; not an uncommon mixture of
feeling for the extreme forms of virtue to produce. In the net result,
however, her marked image of Alec lost something of its heroic
proportions.

But professionally (the distinction must not be pushed too far, she was
not built in watertight compartments) Tower Cottage remained obstinately
in the center of her thoughts; and, connected with it, there arose a
puzzle over Dr. Irechester's demeanor. She had taken advantage of
Beaumaroy's permission, though rather doubtful whether she was doing
right, for she was still inexperienced in niceties of etiquette, and sent
on the letter, with a frank note explaining her own feelings and the
reason which had caused her to pay her visit to Mr. Saffron. But though
Irechester was quite friendly when they met at Old Place before dinner,
and talked freely to her during a rather prolonged period of waiting
(Captain Alec and Cynthia, Gertie and two subalterns were very late,
having apparently forgotten dinner in more refined delights), he made no
reference to the letters, nor to Tower Cottage or its inmates. Mary
herself was too shy to break the ice, but wondered at his silence, and