He had never called her by her first name before, and it produced a shock in them both. She looked her reproof, but he pretended not to see it, and neither Mrs. Joyce nor Mrs. Ollnee seemed to think his familiarity worthy of remark. Leo coldly answered: "I can only give a little time. We must go home to-day." Mrs. Joyce promptly said, "We can't desert the ship now, Leo." "But we have nothing to wear!" the girl retorted. "We'll send down and have some things brought up. Really, this work for Mr. Bartol is more important than clothes." "I suppose it is," Leo admitted. "But at the same time one should have a decent regard to the conventions." The colloquy which followed filled Victor with dismay. It appeared that Leo was really eager to get away, as if she felt herself to be in a false position. "I can't afford to drop my daily affairs in the city. Why can't these experiments be put off for a day or two." "I don't think we ought to ask a great and busy lawyer to accommodate himself to our piffling social plans," replied Mrs. Joyce. "A few minutes ago you were wild to join these experiments, now you are crazy to go home." Victor, who imagined himself in full possession of the reason for her pause, said nothing; but his eyes spoke, and the girl was restless under his glance. She gave in at last. "Well, if you will send for the things I need--" Victor had come from Bartol's study mightily resolved to do speedily and well any work that might fall to his hand, but as he found himself seated close beside the daylight girl and listening to her voice transposing Morselli into English his resolution weakened. What were ghosts, inventions, theories, compared to the satin-smooth curve of the maiden's cheek or the delicate flutter of her lashes? Try as he would, his attention wandered. The book smelled of the clinic, the girl of the dawn. Morselli's problem was all of the night, while on every side the young lover beheld trees flashing green mirrors to the sun, and flowers riding like dainty boats on the billows of a soft western wind. Moreover, the girl's voice was like to the purling of brooks. Twice she reproved him for his wandering wits and laggard pen, and the second time he said: "I can't help it. The time and place invite to other occupations. Let's go for a walk." "A brave student, you are!" she mocked. "Mr. Bartol will find you a valuable aid in his scientific investigations!" Her look, her flushed cheek, and the hint of her bosom set him a-tremble. The memory of his midnight visitor returned, filling him with springtime madness. "Don't you make game of me," he stammered, warningly. "If you do--I'll--" She raised an amused glance. "What? What will you do, boy?" "Boy!" Her pose, her smile were challenges that struck home. With swift, outflung arm, he encircled her waist and drew her to his breast. "Boy, am I?" She beat upon him, pushed him with her small hands. "Let me go, brute!"