The professor pales before it.
"I am glad to see you, Mr.Curzon," says Miss Majendie, rising and extending a bony hand.

"As Perpetua's guardian, you may perhaps have some influence over her.

I say 'perhaps' advisedly, as I scarcely dare to hope _anyone_ could influence a mind so distorted as hers." "What is it ?" asks the professor nervously--of Perpetua, not of Miss Majendie.
"I'm dull," says Perpetua sullenly.
The professor glances keenly at the girl's downcast face, and then at Miss Majendie.

The latter glance is a question.
"You hear her," says Miss Majendie coldly--she draws her shawl round her meagre shoulders, and a breath through her lean nostrils that may be heard.

"Perhaps _you_ may be able to discover her meaning." "What is it ?" asks the professor, turning to the girl, his tone anxious, uncertain.