"Yes?" says the professor, as if asking for an explanation of the
joke.

"Oh! nothing--nothing. Only--you _are_ such a queer fellow!" says
Hardinge, sitting up again to look at him. "You are a _rara avis,_
do you know? No, of course you don't! You are one of the few people
who don't know their own worth. I don't believe, Curzon, though I
should live to be a thousand, that I shall ever look upon your like
again."

"And so you laugh. Well, no doubt it is a pleasant reflection," says
the professor dismally. "I begin to wish now I had never seen
myself."

"Oh, come! cheer up," says Hardinge, "your pretty ward will be all
right. If Lady Baring takes her in hand, she----"

"Ah! But will she?" says the professor. "Will she like Per---- Miss
Wynter?"

"Sure to," said Hardinge, with quite a touch of enthusiasm. "'To
see her is to love her, and love but'----"

"That is of no consequence where anyone is concerned except Lady
Baring," says the professor, with a little twist in his chair, "and
my sister has not seen her as yet. And besides, that is not the only
question--a greater one remains."

"By Jove! you don't say so! What?" demands Mr. Hardinge, growing