glance round the
dull little apartment, "one cannot help wondering why you----"

"Let that go by," says the professor. "I have explained it before. I
deliberately chose my own way in life, and I want nothing more than I
have. You think, then, that last night Miss Wynter gave
you--encouragement?"

"Oh! hardly that. And yet--she certainly seemed to like--that is not to
_dislike_ my being with her: and once--well,"--confusedly--"that was
nothing."

"It must have been something."

"No, really; and I shouldn't have mentioned it either--not for a
moment."

The professor's face changes. The apathy that has lain upon it for the
past five minutes now gives way to a touch of fierce despair. He turns
aside, as if to hide the tell-tale features, and going to the window,
gazes sightlessly on the hot, sunny street below.

What was it--_what_? Shall he ever have the courage to find out? And is
this to be the end of it all? In a flash the coming of the girl is
present before him, and now, here is her going. Had she--had she--what
_was_ it he meant? No wonder if her girlish fancy had fixed itself on
this tall, handsome, young man, with his kindly, merry ways and honest
meaning. Ah! that was what she meant perhaps when last night she had
told him "she would not be a worry to him _long_." Yes, she had meant
that; that she was going to marry Hardinge!

But to _know_ what Hardinge means! A torturing vision of a little lovely
figure, gowned all in white--of a little lovely face uplifted--of
another face down bent! No! a thousand times, no! Hardinge would not
speak of that--it would be too sacred; and yet this awful doubt----

"Look here. I'll tell you," says Hardinge's voice at this moment. "After
all, you are her guardian--her father almost--though I know you scarcely
relish your position; and you ought to know about it, and perhaps you
can give me your opinion, too, as to whether there was anything in it,
you know. The fact is, I,"--rather shamefacedly--"asked her for a flower
out of her bouquet, and she gave it. That was all, and," hurriedly, "I
don't really believe she meant anything _by_ giving it, only," with a
nervous laugh, "I keep hoping she _did_!"

A long, long sigh comes through the professor's lips straight from his
heart. Only a flower she gave him! Well----

"What do _you_ think?" asks Hardinge after a long pause.

"It is a matter on which I could not think."

"But there is this," says Hardinge. "You will forwar