It is manifestly unfair, the whole thing.

Hardinge, believing in her tone, her smile, falls into the trap.

Mindful of that night when the professor in despair at her untimely descent upon him, had said many things unmeant, he answers her.
"Hardly that.

But----" "Go on." "There was a little word or two, you know," laughing.
"A hint ?" laughing too, but how strangely! "Yes?
And---- ?" "Oh! a _mere_ hint! The professor is too loyal to go beyond that.

I suppose you know you have the best man in all the world for your guardian?
But it was a little unkind of your people, was it not, to give you into the keeping of a confirmed bookworm--a savant--with scarcely a thought beyond his studies ?" "He could study me!" says she.