"I know no one less likely than Mark Easter to make a fool of himself in that particular way," said Julian emphatically.
"It's not Mark that I'm afraid of," inconsistently said Lady Rossiter. "A friendship with a good, true woman is often a man's best safeguard."
Julian wondered whether it would be worth while to simulate a belief that the good, true woman in question was Miss Marchrose, but Edna left him no time to adopt this amiable pose.
"I am going to find out once and for all whether that girl—I suppose she calls herself a girl—is really poor Clarence's evil genius or not. Personally, I believe she is."
Julian left it at that, not desirous of sparing his wife the trouble of her proposed investigation by telling her Miss Marchrose's identity without more ado.
Making his own observations, he thought Mark in no danger of falling a victim to the beaux yeux which, if their smile was chiefly kept for answering his, were far more often bent upon a typewriter or an account-book than diverted towards him. Fuller continued to extol the Lady Superintendent, and Sir Julian went oftener to the College than usual, not concealing from himself that he found the enigma of her personality of interest.
She continued gaily impersonal towards him until one evening in October, when he overtook her at the door of the College, and on an impulse born of unacknowledged, overwhelming loneliness, suddenly asked her if she would care to drive down to the shore with him and go on to the farm afterwards.
He had long ago decided that Miss Marchrose, although her manner was often abrupt, was devoid of shyness as of conventional politeness. If his suggestion displeased her, she would undoubtedly decline it.
But she exclaimed with undisguised pleasure, and took her place in the car beside him.
Julian was more than usually dissatisfied with life, and made no attempt at conversation. It struck upon him with relief that Miss Marchrose was equally silent, and presently he glanced at her.