The professor groans.

To be talked about! To be discussed! To be held up to vulgar comment! He writhes inwardly.

The thought is actual torture to him.
"They said----" "_What ?_" demands the professor, almost fiercely.

How dare a feeble feminine audience appreciate or condemn his honest efforts to enlighten his small section of mankind! "That you ought to be married," says Perpetua, sympathetically.

"And they said, too, that they supposed you wouldn't ever be now; but that it was a great pity you hadn't a daughter.