There had been that little movement, and the girl's calm drawing back, and---- The professor's step forward at that moment had betrayed him to Perpetua.
She rises now, letting her fan fall without thought to the ground.
"You!" cries she, in a little, soft, quick way.

"_You!_" Indeed it seems to her impossible that it can be he.
She almost runs to him.

If she had quite understood Sir Hastings is impossible to know, for no one has ever asked her since, but certainly the advent of her guardian is a relief to her.
"You!" she says again, as if only half believing.

Her gaze grows bewildered.

If he had never seen her in anything but black before, she had never seen him in ought but rather antiquated morning clothes.