being impatient--of acting for themselves----"

_"She_ cannot," says the professor, with anxious haste. "She knows
nobody in town."

"Nobody?"

"Except me, and a woman who is a friend of her aunt's. If she were
to go to her, she would be taken back again. Perpetua knows that."

"Perpetua! Is that her name? What a peculiar one? Perpetua----"

"Miss Wynter," sharply.

"Perpetua--Miss Wynter! Exactly so! It sounds like--Dorothea--Lady
Highflown! Well, _your_ Lady Highflown doesn't seem to have many
friends here. What a pity you can't send her back to Australia!"

The professor is silent.

"It would suit all sides. I daresay the poor girl is pining for the
freedom of her old home. And, I must say, it is hard lines for you.
A girl with a temper, to be----"

"I did not say she had a temper."

Hardinge has risen to get himself some whisky and soda, but pauses
to pat the professor affectionately on the back.

"Of _course_ not! Don't I know you? You would die first! She might