_you_ know?--one never knows how things will turn out--she may--she
may marry him, and he may have a life which will give him more leisure
for investigation than if--"

Professor Marshall wiped his lips violently on his napkin and stood
up. "Nothing would induce her to marry him--or any one else. She's
extracted from marriage all she wants of it. No, she'll just keep him
trailing along, in an ambiguous position, sickened and tantalized and
fevered, till all the temper is drawn out of him--and then hell be
dropped,"

He turned away with an impatient fling of his head. His wife stood up
now and looked at him anxiously. "Go play us something on the piano,"
she urged. This was not a common exhortation from her. She cared very
little for music, and with her usual honesty she showed, as a rule, a
very passive attitude towards it.

Professor Marshall glanced at her with a flash of anger. "Sometimes
you count too much on my childishness, Barbara," he said resentfully,
and went out of the door without further words.

Decidedly the discomposing effect of Aunt Victoria's visit lasted even
after she had gone away. But the next day was the beginning of the
school term, the busy, regular routine was taken up, Sylvia was
promoted to the 5A grade, and at home Father let her begin to learn
the Pilgrim's Chorus, from Tannhauser.

Life for the eager little girl moved quickly forward at its usual
brisk pace, through several years to come.