"I wonder if one should _say_ just what one feels," says she. She draws back haughtily, then wrath gets the better of dignity, and she breaks out again. "What a _horrid_ answer! _You_ are unfeeling if you like!" "_I_ am?" "Yes, yes! You would deny me this small gratification, you would lock me up for ever with Aunt Jane, you would debar me from everything! Oh!" her lips trembling, "how I wish--I _wish--_guardians had never been invented." The professor almost begins to wish the same. Almost--perhaps not quite! That accusation about wishing to keep her locked up for ever with Miss Majendie is so manifestly unjust that he takes it hardly. Has he not spent all this past week striving to open a way of escape for her from the home she so detests! But, after all, how could she know that? "You have misunderstood me," says he calmly, gravely. "Far from wishing you to deny yourself this concert, I am glad--glad from my _heart_--that you are going to it--that some small pleasure has fallen into your life. Your aunt's home is an unhappy one for you, I know, but you should remember that even if--if you have got to stay with her until you become your own mistress, still that will not be forever." "No, I shall not stay there for ever," says she slowly. "And so--you really think----" she is looking very earnestly at him. "I do, indeed. Go out--go everywhere--enjoy yourself, child, while you can." He lifts his hat and walks away. "Who was that, dear?" asks Mrs. Constans, a pretty pale woman, rushing out of the shop and into the carriage. "My guardian--Mr. Curzon." "Ah!" glancing carelessly after the professor's retreating figure. "A youngish man?" "No, old," says Perpetua, "at least, I think--do you know," laughing, "when he's _gone_ I sometimes think of him as being pretty young, but when he is _with_ me, he is old--old and grave!" "As a guardian should be, with such a pretty ward," says Mrs. Constans, smiling. "His back looks young, however." "And his laugh _sounds_ young." "Ah! he can laugh then?" "Very seldom. Too seldom. But when he does, it is a nice laugh. But he wears spectacles, you know--and--well--oh, yes, he _is_ old, distinctly old!" CHAPTER VI. "He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is more excellent who can suit his temper to any circumstances." "The idea of _your_ having a ward! I could quite as soon imagine your having a wife," says Hardinge. He knocks the ash off his cigar, and after meditating for a moment, leans back in his chair and gives way to irrepressible mirth. "I don't see why I shouldn't have a wife as well as another," says the professor, idly tapping his forefinger on the table near him. "She would bore me. But a great many fellows are bored." "You have grasped one great truth if you never grasp another!" says Mr. Hardinge, who has now recovered. "Catch _me_ marrying."