always call him Frank--and I thought I had it with me. He was asking
about Middlemount; and I wanted to read you what he said. But I'll find
it upstairs. He's out of college, now, and he's begun his studies in the
divinity school. He's at Andover. I don't know what to make of Frank,
oftentimes," the clerk continued, confidentially. "I tell him he's a kind
of a survival, in religion; he's so aesthetic." It seemed to Fane that he
had not meant aesthetic, exactly, but he could not ask Clementina what
the word was. He went on to say, "He's a grand good fellow, Frank is, but
he don't make enough allowance for human nature. He's more like one of
those old fashioned orthodox. I go in for having a good time, so long as
you don't do anybody else any hurt."

He left her, and went to receive the commands of a lady who was leaning
over the desk, and saying severely, "My mail, if you please," and
Clementina could not wait for him to come back; she had to go to Mrs.
Lander, and get her ready for breakfast; Ellida had taught Mrs. Lander a
luxury of helplessness in which she persisted after the maid's help was
withdrawn.

Clementina went about the whole day with the wonder what Gregory had said
about Middlemount filling her mind. It must have had something to do with
her; he could not have forgotten the words he had asked her to forget.
She remembered them now with a curiosity, which had no rancor in it, to
know why he really took them back. She had never blamed him, and she had
outlived the hurt she had felt at not hearing from him. But she had never
lost the hope of hearing from him, or rather the expectation, and now she
found that she was eager for his message; she decided that it must be
something like a message, although it could not be anything direct. No
one else had come to his place in her fancy, and she was willing to try
what they would think of each other now, to measure her own obligation to