The little professor’s eyes wandered admiringly over her, from the top of her queenly head to the tip of her dainty feet, while he quoted to himself:
“A daughter of the gods!
Divinely tall and most divinely fair.”
Then suddenly feeling that he had no part nor lot in her affairs, asked to be excused and bowed himself out.
Mr. Ellerton immediately recovered himself, and said, in a voice of regret:
“I beg, Miss Dupont, you will pardon me for being so inconsiderate as to mention this subject in so public a place. My intense anxiety and disappointment at the absence of my son must be my apology for my forgetfulness.”
Dora bowed coldly, then arose, and taking Robert’s letter from the table, handed it to him, saying:
“It is but right, sir, that you should know the contents of the communication I have received from your son. I understood from your conversation with Professor Ursengen that you had been the recipient of one something like it.
Mr. Ellerton read that cruel letter through, and then exclaimed, with perplexity:
“Zounds!” He immediately recovered himself, and added, “I beg pardon, ladies, but I don’t understand this business—it is so unlike Robert of old.”