"Being a relation of yours," she began in a slightly strained voice, "I'm sorry that I said what I did, but--well, you yourself, called her a prig, didn't you?" "Yes," he admitted, and then he tore the card in two, angrily, and threw it into the flames. "She couldn't, perhaps, have avoided the accident," Jill went on, "and she meant to kind, but she doesn't possess much tact." "No," he agreed, "she doesn't. You must allow me to apologise for her. After all there is some slight excuse for her gaucherie; she has been spoilt with a superabundance of this world's goods--quarter of a million of money is rather inclined to blunt the finer sensibilities." "Quarter of a million!" gasped Jill. "Oh, dear me, I would like the chance of having my finer sensibilities blunted." She laughed a little, but St. John was looking so gloomy that her mirth died away almost as soon as it had risen. "Come!" she said, jumping up. "I will get you some water to wash your hands, and then we must go to work; it will never do to waste a whole morning like this." He allowed her to go without hindrance, and when quite alone stood glaring at the charred embers of Miss Bolton's card. "Just like Evie," he soliloquised. "That girl is always making a blithering idiot of herself, though I--H'm! I wonder what little Miss Erskine would say if she knew that I--" He broke off abruptly and kicked savagely at an inoffensive lump of coal lying near to his boot left there by his own carelessness when making the fire. "Oh, hang it!" he mentally ejaculated, "what a confounded ass I am." "The water and soap are on the table," said Jill's voice at his elbow, such a small friendly voice, so very different from her former tone--the tone that was always associated in his mind in connection with her--that he turned and faced her involuntarily, looking down at her with a smile. "It is awfully good of you to trouble," he said. "I am afraid that I and my relations are putting you to a lot of bother." "By no means," she answered, with a return to her former distance of voice and manner. "When a student of mine soils his hands in my service, the least I can do is to provide him with the means of cleansing them again." St. John immediately retreated within himself, and taking the towel which she offered him, walked over to the table. When he had finished his ablutions, Miss Erskine removed the basin, while he took his former seat and quietly resumed work. The rest of the time passed pretty well in silence, Miss Erskine's manner continuing as distant as ever. In all likelihood she would have bowed him out as before, had he not boldly put hesitation on one side, and marching straight up to her held out his hand. Jill, in unwilling acquiescence, placed hers in it.