Wyndham made a movement as if to speak, but the Professor checked him.
‘Of course, if the experiment is successful,’ he said, ‘I shall provide for you for life.’
‘I hope you will not have to provide for me,’ she said.
At this, a little silence fell upon the room, that seemed to chill it. The Professor broke it.
‘You agree, then?’
‘I agree.’ She rose, and held out her hand. ‘Give me the draught.’
Wyndham started, his voice vibrating with horror.
‘No, no!’ he cried. ‘She does not understand; and’—to the Professor—‘neither do you. If this thing fails, it will mean murder. Think, I entreat you, before it is too late to think. That girl’—pointing to the young stranger, who was standing regarding him with a dull curiosity—‘she is but a child. She cannot know her own mind. She ought not to be allowed to settle so stupendous a question. Look at her!’ His voice shook. ‘Many a happier girl at her age would still be in her schoolroom. She is so young that, whatever her wrongs, her sorrows may be, she has still time before her to conquer or live them down. Professor, I implore you, do not go on with this.’
The Professor rested a contemptuous glance on him for a moment, then swept it from him, and addressed the girl.
‘You are willing?’ he said.