"Julian LeVallon," he replied quickly. "He's staying with me indefinitely." His face grew stern a moment about the mouth. "I think he may need you," he added with abrupt significance.
"Julian LeVallon," she repeated, the name sounding very musical the way her slightly foreign accent touched it "And what nationality may that be?"
Dr. Fillery hesitated. "His parents, Nayan, I believe, were English," he said. "He has lived all his life in the Jura Mountains, alone with an old scholar, poet and geologist, who brought him up. Of our modern life he knows little. I think you may——" He broke off. "His mother died when he was born," he concluded.
"And of women he knows nothing," she replied, understandingly, "so that he will probably fall in love with the first he sees—with Nayan."
"I hope so, Nayan, and he will be safe with you."
She watched her companion's face for a minute or two with her clear searching eyes. She smiled. But his own face wore a mask now; no figure this time flashed between their deep understanding gaze.
"A woman, you think, can teach and help him more than a man," she said, without lowering her eyes.
"Probably—perhaps, at any rate. The material, I must warn you at once, is new and strange. I want him to meet you."
"Then I am in the Firm," was all she answered, "and you can't do without me." She let go the hand she had held all this time, and turned from him, looking once across her shoulder as he, too, went upon his way.
"About three o'clock we shall expect you—and Mr. Julian LeVallon," she added. "The Prometheans are coming too, as of course you know, but that won't matter. Father has let the Studio to them."