It is a strange night-creature--leave it alone." John Derringham sat down again.
"She is not nearly so attractive-looking as she used to be.

If I remember, she was rather a weirdly pretty child." "Just a chrysalis now," grunted the professor between [**TR Note: was betwen in original; typesetter's error.] puffs of smoke.

"But there is more true philosophy and profound knowledge of truth in that little head than either you or I have got in ours, John." "You always thought the world of her, Master--you, with your ineradicable contempt for women!" "She is not a woman--yet.

She is an intelligence and a brain--and a soul." "Oh, she has a soul, then!" and John Derringham smiled.

"I remember once you said when I should meet a woman with a soul I should meet my match! I do not feel very alarmed." One of the Professor's penthouse brows raised itself about half an inch, but he did not speak.
"In which school have you taught her ?" John Derringham asked--"you who are so much of a cynic, Master.