"Has he asked you to tell me this?" inquired Agnes, somewhat impatiently.
"Oh! dear no," laughed the chemist; "he is only too anxious to do so himself. He is a most impetuous fellow. But I thought it best to prepare you——"
"May I ask the name of your protégé?" interrupted the young girl.
"Did I say he was my protégé?" asked Murdock, gently. "I certainly had no intention of conveying any such impression. His name is Chatham—Thomas Chatham."
A look, half of amusement, half of vexation, came into the girl's eyes. It did not escape Murdock's close scrutiny.
"I judge from your reception of the gentleman's name, that his suit is not likely to meet with much favor in your eyes."
"I am not aware that I have ever given Mr. Chatham any reason to believe that it would," answered Agnes, stiffly.
"And yet you must have understood the drift of his attentions during the last few months, since——"
"Since it has been perfectly clear to every one else, you mean?
"And yet," the young girl continued, reflectively, "I do not see how, without downright rudeness, I could have done more than I have to show him that his attentions have been distasteful to me."