“Is there nothing that will set me free from these tender moorings?”
Hadria shook her head and laughed. “You are chained by the most inflexible of all chains,” she said: “your own compunction.”
“Oh, you little tyrant!” exclaimed the Professor, shaking his fist in the baby’s face, at which she laughed a taunting and triumphant laugh. Then, once more, the object of dispute went into her mouth. Martha gurgled with joy.
“What am I to do?” cried her victim helplessly.
“Nothing. She has you securely because you fear to hurt her.”
“Little imp! Come now, let me go please. Oh, please, Miss Baby—your Majesty: will nothing soften you? She is beginning early to take advantage of the chivalry of the stronger sex, and I doubt not she will know how to pursue her opportunity later on.”
“Oh! is that your parable? Into my head came quite a different one—à propos of what we were talking of yesterday in Griffin-land.”
“Ah, the eternal feminine!” cried the Professor. “Yes, you were very brilliant, Mrs. Temperley.”
“You now stand for an excellent type of woman, Professor: strong, but chained.”
“Oh, thank you! (Infant, I implore!)”