“He wanted to come. Look here, you’re not going away immediately, are you?”
“It depends on whether you can let me stay and talk to you for a little while,” the doctor answered frankly. “That’s what I came for.”
Rose looked at him with a strange mingling of pleasure and wistfulness in her brown eyes. Then she sat down and invited him by a gesture to do the same.
The odious word “coquettish” was of all others, Lucian reflected, the least applicable to her simplicity.
“What do you think of Ces?” she abruptly began.
“Not satisfactory, altogether. What was his report like?”
“Not bad. There was something about a want of keenness—but you couldn’t expect him to be very keen, his first term. His lessons are just ordinary—history, good.”
“What does he say himself?”
“He says he’s all right.”
She hesitated for a moment, then said very low: “But I don’t believe him.”