‘I shall see to her future, of course.’
‘If,’ said the young man gloomily, ‘anyone could see to the future of such a one as she is!’
The Professor looked at him.
‘You are out of sorts to-night,’ he said. ‘Your natural instinct is deadened in you. That girl does not belong to the class of which you are thinking. Whatever has driven her to her present desperate state of mind, it is not impurity.’
‘You think that?’ Wyndham looked doubtful, but was still conscious of a faint wave of relief; and the Professor, watching him, smiled, the tolerant smile of one who understands the cranks and follies of poor human nature.
‘If so,’ said Wyndham quickly, ‘she should surely not be subjected to this experiment at all. She——’
‘For all that, I shall not lose this chance,’ said the Professor shortly. He turned and went back to the girl.
She was sitting in the same attitude as when he left her—her hands clenched upon her knees, her eyes staring into the fire. God alone knew what she saw there. She did not change her position, but sat like that, immovable as a statue, as the Professor expounded his experiment to her, and then asked her the cold, unsympathetic question as to whether, now she knew what the risk was, she would accept it. It might mean death, but if not, it would mean safety and protection in the future.
When he had finished, she turned her sombre eyes on his.
‘I will take the risk,’ she said.