However, Edith said nothing alarming, and Maurice was able to get her safely away from the powder magazine in the shape of the amiable doctor, who, following them a few minutes later, was saying to himself: "How scared he was! Yet he looks like a good fellow at bottom. A rum world—a rum world!"
The "good fellow" hurried his womenkind down the street in angry preoccupation. As soon as he and Eleanor were alone, he said, "When does Edith graduate?"
"She has two years more."
"Oh, Lord!" Maurice said, despairingly; "has she got to be around for two years?" Eleanor's face lightened, but Maurice was instantly repentant. "I ought to be ashamed of myself for saying that! Edith's fine; and she has brains; but—"
"She monopolized the conversation to-night," Eleanor said; "Maurice, it is very improper for her to keep talking all the time about that horrid woman!"
The sharpness of his agreement made her look at him in surprise. "She mustn't talk about Mrs. Dale!" he said, angrily.
"Dale? Is that her name?" said Eleanor.
"I don't know. I think so; didn't Edith call her that? Well, anyway, she mustn't keep talking about her!"
His irritation was so marked, that Eleanor's heart warmed; but she said, wearily, "I'll be glad myself when she graduates."