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There was a gay party at the McLeans’ that night and one unexpected guest arrived just before dinner. It was Professor Green. They squeezed him in somehow at the end of the table with the doctor, and the two made merry together like school boys. Molly had never seen the Professor of English Literature in such joyous spirits. After dinner, when the dancing commenced, he sought her out and led her to a secluded sofa in the back hall. She began at once by asking about Mr. Blount, but the Professor was not listening.
“That’s one of the prettiest dresses I’ve seen you wear,” he interrupted. “Yellow is not becoming to most people, but it is to you. Probably because it has the same golden quality that’s in your hair.”
“I’m glad you like it,” said Molly, turning red under his steady gaze.
“I found your note on my study floor,” he went on.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t remember what I was talking about, after all,” she exclaimed. “But I had to write it. I have never really been happy since I said that cruel thing to you. I was so wretched the day afterward, and when I rushed to find you in your study, you were gone!” she broke off with a tearful glance into his eyes.
The Professor beamed upon her.
“So you were unhappy,” he said, as if the statement was not entirely unpleasing.
“Oh, yes. I know now that you were quite right to tell Miss Walker about that silly episode of the burying of the slipper.”