“There was no specific mention of it, certainly,” said Mr. Prior, “neither for nor against. I concluded that the use of a study was not debarred me.”
“Pardon me,” she repeated monotonously. “I believe you concluded wrong, sir.”
“The door was not locked.”
“There are some prohibitions,” she said, “that need no locks.”
The inference was fearful.
“Miss June” (ecstatic name!) “and I,” she said, “have never dared so much as to put our noses inside, and not a word spoken to forbid it.”
Mr. Prior, to his own astonishment, revolted. Smarting, perhaps, under the memory of some suspected covert innuendo in a certain silvery acquiescence in a statement of his made last night, he revolted. He would prove that he could be a pirate if he chose.
“I shall stop here,” he said, trembling all over. “There was no embargo laid, and I must have somewhere to write my sermon.”
“Of course,” said a voice; and Miss Robin stood in the doorway—the most enchanting morning vision, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“I am delighted you support me,” he said, kindling and advancing.