You would have been _so_ happy, and so should I.You would--wouldn't you ?" The professor nods his head.

The awful vista she has opened up to him has completely deprived him of speech.
"Ah! yes," sighs she, taking that deceitful nod in perfect good faith.
"And you would have been good to me too, and let me look in at the shop windows.

I should have taken such _care_ of you, and made your tea for you, just," sadly, "as I used to do for poor papa, and----" It is becoming too much for the professor.
"It is late.

I must go," says he.
* * * * * It is a week later when he meets her again.

The season is now at its height, and some stray wave of life casting the professor into a fashionable thoroughfare, he there finds he.
Marching along, as usual, with his head in the air, and his thoughts in the ages when dates were unknown, a soft, eager voice calling his name brings him back to the fact that he is walking up Bond Street.
In a carriage, exceedingly well appointed, and with her face wreathed in smiles, and one hand impulsively extended, sits Perpetua.