The heat of battle has overcome him.

With a deep breath he drops into a chair, and begins to wonder how long it will be before happy death will overtake him.
But in the meantime, whilst sitting on a milestone of life waiting for that grim friend, what is to be done with her?
If--Good heavens! if anyone had seen her come in! "Who opened the door for you ?" demands he abruptly.
"A great big fat woman with a queer voice! Your Mrs.Mulcahy of course.
I remember your telling me about her." Mrs.Mulcahy undoubtedly.

Well, the professor wishes now he had told this ward _more_ about her.

Mrs.Mulcahy he can trust, but she--awful thought--will she trust him?
What is she thinking now?
"I said, 'Is Mr.Curzon at home ?' and she said, 'Well I niver!' So I saw she was a kindly, foolish, poor creature with no sense, and I ran past her, and up the stairs, and I looked into one room where there were lights but you weren't there, and then I ran on again until I saw the light under _your_ door, and," brightening, "there you were!" Here _she_ is now at all events, at half-past twelve at night! "Wasn't it fortunate I found you ?" says she.

She is laughing a little, and looking so content that the professor hasn't the heart to contradict her--though where the fortune comes in---- "I'm starving," says she, gaily, "will that funny little kettle soon boil ?" The professor has lit a spirit-lamp with a view to giving her some tea.