Yes," nodding her head, "it has come to that at last.

I warned you it _would._ I couldn't stay with her any longer.
I hate her! So I have come to stay with you--_for ever!"_ She has cuddled herself into an armchair, and, indeed, looks as if a life-long residence in this room is the plan she has laid out for herself.
"Good heavens! What can you mean ?" asks the poor professor, who should have sworn by the heathen gods, but in a weak moment falls back upon the good old formula.

He sinks upon the table next him, and makes ruin of the notes he had been scribbling--the ink is still wet--even whilst Hardinge was with him.

Could he only have known it, there are first proofs of them now upon his trousers.
"I have told you," says she.

"Good gracious, what a funny room this is! I told you she was abominable to me when I came home to-night.
She said dreadful things to me, and I don't care whether she is my aunt or not, I shan't let her scold me for nothing; and--I'm afraid I wasn't nice to her.