"Hang it!--for anything you know to the contrary, she may have--might have--other ideas!" Bryce, who had been staring out of a side window for the last minute or two, suddenly laughed, and, lifting a hand, pointed into the garden.

And Ransford turned--and saw Mary Bewery walking there with a tall lad, whom he recognized as one Sackville Bonham, stepson of Mr.Folliot, a wealthy resident of the Close.

The two young people were laughing and chatting together with evident great friendliness.
"Perhaps," remarked Bryce quietly, "her ideas run in--that direction?
In which case, Dr.Ransford, you'll have trouble.

For Mrs.Folliot, mother of yonder callow youth, who's the apple of her eye, is one of the inquisitive ladies of whom I've just told you, and if her son unites himself with anybody, she'll want to know exactly who that anybody is.
You'd far better have supported me as an aspirant! However--I suppose there's no more to say." "Nothing!" answered Ransford.

"Except to say good-day--and good-bye to you.