The Professor drooped his ears at this, and shook his head with a doleful incredulity that made him look more like the Pantomime Donkey than ever. "I think I understand him fairly well by this time, sir," said Horace, "and I'll answer for it that there's no real harm in him. I give you my word of honour that, if you'll only remain quiet and leave everything to me, you shall very soon be released from this absurd position. That's all I came to tell you, and now I won't trouble you any longer. If you _could_ bring yourself, as a sign that you bear me no ill-feeling, to give me your--your off-foreleg at parting, I----" But the Professor turned his back in so pointed and ominous a manner that Horace judged it better to withdraw without insisting further. "I'm afraid," he said to Mrs. Futvoye, after they had rejoined Sylvia in the drawing-room--"I'm afraid your husband is still a little sore with me about this miserable business." "I don't know what else you can expect," replied the lady, rather tartly; "he can't help feeling--as we all must and do, after what you said just now--that, but for you, this would never have happened!" "If you mean it was all through my attending that sale," said Horace, "you might remember that I only went there at the Professor's request. You know that, Sylvia." "Yes, Horace," said Sylvia; "but papa never asked you to buy a hideous brass bottle with a nasty Genius in it. And any one with ordinary common sense would have kept it properly corked!" "What, you against me too, Sylvia!" cried Horace, cut to the quick. "No, Horace, never against you. I didn't mean to say what I did. Only it _is_ such a relief to put the blame on somebody. I know, I _know_ you feel it almost as much as we do. But so long as poor, dear papa remains as he is, we can never be anything to one another. You must see that, Horace!" "Yes, I see that," he said; "but trust me, Sylvia, he shall _not_ remain as he is. I swear he shall not. In another day or two, at the outside, you will see him his own self once more. And then--oh, darling, darling, you won't let anything or anybody separate us? Promise me that!" He would have held her in his arms, but she kept him at a distance. "When papa is himself again," she said, "I shall know better what to say. I can't promise anything now, Horace." Horace recognised that no appeal would draw a more definite answer from her just then; so he took his leave, with the feeling that, after all, matters must improve before very long, and in the meantime he must bear the suspense with patience. He got through dinner as well as he could in his own rooms, for he did not like to go to his club lest the Jinnee should suddenly return during his absence.