"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.

Young women with "wrongs" are unknown to him, as are all other sorts of young women for the matter of that.