"Sensuous--purely sensuous," said the Professor, rubbing his chin. "Vague hereditary tendencies stirred into life by the stimulation of the nasal and auditory nerves." "Maybe so, maybe so," the younger man answered thoughtfully. "But this was not what I wished to speak to you about. Before I enter your family, your sister and you have a claim to know all that I can tell you about my career. Of my worldly prospects I have already spoken to you. There is only one point which I have omitted to mention. I am a widower." The Professor raised his eyebrows. "This is news indeed," said he. "I married shortly after my arrival in Australia. Miss Thurston was her name. I met her in society. It was a most unhappy match." Some painful emotion possessed him. His quick, expressive features quivered, and his white hands tightened upon the arms of the chair. The Professor turned away towards the window. "You are the best judge," he remarked; "but I should not think that it was necessary to go into details." "You have a right to know everything--you and Miss Grey. It is not a matter on which I can well speak to her direct. Poor Jinny was the best of women, but she was open to flattery, and liable to be misled by designing persons. She was untrue to me, Grey. It is a hard thing to say of the dead, but she was untrue to me. She fled to Auckland with a man whom she had known before her marriage. The brig which carried them foundered, and not a soul was saved." "This is very painful, O'Brien," said the Professor, with a deprecatory motion of his hand. "I cannot see, however, how it affects your relation to my sister." "I have eased my conscience," said O'Brien, rising from his chair; "I have told you all that there is to tell. I should not like the story to reach you through any lips but my own." "You are right, O'Brien. Your action has been most honourable and considerate. But you are not to blame in the matter, save that perhaps you showed a little precipitancy in choosing a life-partner without due care and inquiry." O'Brien drew his hand across his eyes. "Poor girl!" he cried. "God help me, I love her still. But I must go." "You will lunch with us?" "No, Professor; I have my packing still to do. I have already bade Miss Grey adieu. In two months I shall see you again." "You will probably find me a married man." "Married!" "Yes, I have been thinking of it." "My dear Professor, let me congratulate you with all my heart. I had no idea. Who is the lady?" "Mrs. O'James is her name--a widow of the same nationality as yourself. But to return to matters of importance, I should be very happy to see the proofs of your paper upon the vermiform appendix. I may be able to furnish you with material for a footnote or two." "Your assistance will be invaluable to me," said O'Brien, with enthusiasm, and the two men parted in the hall. The Professor walked back into the dining-room, where his sister was already seated at the luncheon-table.