" If it is my fault," said the professor, drearily, " I hope God may forgive me, for here is a great wrong to my daughter."
Well, if you had done as I told you-" she began.
Here the professor revolted. " Oh, now, do not be- gin on that," he snarled, peevishly. Do not begin on that."
" Anyhow," said Mrs. Wainwright, it is time that we should be going down to dinner. Is Marjory com- ing? "
" No, she is not," answered the professor, " and I do not know as I shall go myself."
" But you must go. Think how it would look! All the students down there dining without us, and cutting up capers! You must come."
" Yes," he said, dubiously, " but who will look after
Marjory ? "
" She wants to be left alone," announced Mrs. Wainwright, as if she was the particular herald of this news. " She wants to be left alone."
" Well, I suppose we may as well go down." Before they went, the professor tiptoed into his daughter's room. In the darkness he could only see her waxen face on the pillow, and her two eyes gazing fixedly at the ceiling. He did not speak, but immedi. ately withdrew, closing the door noiselessly behind him.