and----"

He is interrupted by Miss Wynter's giving way to a sudden burst of
mirth. It is mirth of the very angriest, but it checks him the more
effectually because of that.

"You must place great confidence in princes!" says she. "Even
_'without _the title, he is worthy of esteem.'" She copies him
audaciously. "What has a title got to do with esteem?--and what has
esteem got to do with love?"

"I should hope----" begins the professor.

"You needn't. It has nothing to do with it, nothing _at all._ Go
back and tell Mr. Hardinge so; and tell him, too, that when next he
goes a-wooing, he had better do it in person."

"I am afraid I have damaged my mission," says the professor, who has
never once looked at her since his first swift glance.

_"Your_ mission?"

"Yes. It was mere nervousness that prevented him coming to you first
himself. He said he had little to go on, and he said something about
a flower that you gave him----"

Perpetua makes a rapid movement toward a side table, takes a flower
from a bouquet there, and throws it at the professor. There is no
excuse to be made for her beyond the fact that her heart feels
breaking, and people with broken hearts do strange things every day.