It is a most peculiar sound, as it were the rattle of beads against wood.
"What's that ?" said Hardinge.

"Everett" (the man in the rooms below,) "is out, I know." "It's coming here," says the professor.
It is, indeed! The door is opened in a tumultuous fashion, there is a rustle of silken skirts, and there--there, where the gas-light falls full on her from both room and landing--stands Perpetua! The professor has risen to his feet.

His face is deadly white.

Mr.
Hardinge has risen too.
"Perpetua!" says the professor; it would be impossible to describe his tone.
"I've come!" says Perpetua, advancing into the room.

"I have done with Aunt Jane, _for ever_," casting wide her pretty naked arms, "and I have come to you!" As if in confirmation of this decision, she flings from her on to a distant chair the white opera cloak around her, and stands revealed as charming a thing as ever eye fell upon.