And so she sat until the clock of the church at Sarthe-under-Crum struck one, and she started up, realizing that she was too late now to go on to Cheiron's and would only just have time to return for lunch with her aunts. She must go instead in the afternoon. So she walked briskly to the house, with a strange feeling of relief and joy, which she was quite unable to account for in any explicable way. Nothing delayed her on her second attempt to reach the orchard house, and she found Cheiron placidly smoking while he read a volume of Lucian. She was quite aware what that meant. When the Professor was in an amused and cynical humor he always read Lucian, and although he knew every word by heart, it still caused him complete satisfaction, plainly to be discerned by the upward raising of the left penthouse brow. Halcyone sat down and smiled sympathetically while she tried to detect which volume it was, that she might have some clew to the cause of her Professor's mood. But he carefully closed the book, so that she could not see--it was the Judgment of Paris in the dialogue of the gods--and she was unable to have her curiosity gratified. "Something has entertained you, Cheiron?" she said. "I have had the visit of two goddesses," he answered, chuckling. "Our friend John Derringham brought them. He wanted to show them off and get my opinion, I think." "And did you give him one?" she asked. "I suppose not!" "He went away with his teeth shut--" and Mr. Carlyon's smile deepened as he stroked his white beard. Halcyone laughed. She seldom asked questions herself. If the Professor wished to tell her anything about the ladies he would do so--she was dying to hear! Presently a set of disjointed sentences flowed from her master's lips between his puffs of smoke. "Girl--worth something--showy--honest--sure of herself--clever--pretty--on her own roots--not a graft." "Girl"--who was the girl? Halcyone wondered. But Cheiron continued his laconic utterances. "Woman--beautiful--determined--thick--roots of the commonest--grafting of the best--octopean, tenacious--dangerous--my poor devil of a John!" "And did you give the apple to either, Cheiron?" Halcyone asked with a gleam of fine humor in her wise eyes. "Or, one of the trio being absent, did you feel yourself excused?" Mr. Carlyon glanced at her sharply, and then broke into a smile. "Young woman, I do not think I have ever allowed you to read the Judgment of Paris," he said. "Wherefore your question is ill-timed and irrelevant." Then they laughed together. How well they knew one another!--not only over things Greek. And presently they began their reading. They were in the middle of Symonds' "Renaissance," and so forgot the outer world. But after Halcyone had gone in the dusk through the park, the Professor sat in the firelight for a while, and did not ring for lights. He was musing deeply, and his thoughts ran something in this line: