A little smile curled the corners of Desire's lips. He did not see it because she had turned to the fire again and, with that deliberate unself-consciousness which characterized her, was proceeding to unpin and dry her hair. Spence had not seen it undone before and was astonished at its length and l.u.s.tre. The girl shook it as a young colt shakes its mane, spreading it out to the blaze upon her hands.

"I know what you mean, though," admitted Spence, "there is nothing like the fascination of the unknown. It very nearly did for me."

Desire looked up long enough to allow her slanting brows to ask their eternal question.

"Too much inside, not enough outside," he answered. "I ought to have made myself a man first and a student afterward. Then I might have been out in the rain you."

She considered this, as she considered most things, gravely. Then met it in her downright way.

"There's nothing very wrong with you, is there? Nothing but what can be put right."

"No."

"Well then, you can begin again. And begin properly."

"I am thirty-five."

"In that case you have no time to waste."

It was a thoroughly sensible remark. But somehow the professor did not like it. After all, thirty-five is not so terribly old. He decided to change the subject. But there was no immediate hurry. It was pleasant to lie there in the firelight watching this enigma of girl-hood dry her hair. Perhaps she would notice his silence and ask him what he was thinking about.

"You really ought to offer me a penny for my thoughts," he observed plaintively.

"Oh, were you thinking? So was I."

"I'll give you a penny for yours!"

Desire shook her head.

"No? Then I'll give you mine for nothing. I was thinking what a pity it is that you are only an amateur nurse."

"I hate nursing."

"How unwomanly! Lots of women hate it--but few admit it. However, it wasn't a nurse's duties I was thinking of, but a patient's privileges.

You see, if you were a professional nurse I could call you 'Nurse Desire.'"

"Do you mean that you want to call me by my first name?"

"Since you put it more bluntly than I should dare to,--yes. It is a charming name. But perhaps--"

"Oh, you may use it if you like," said the owner of the name indifferently. "It sounds more natural. I am not accustomed to 'Miss Fair.'"

This ought to have been satisfactory. But it wasn't. And after he had led up to it so tactfully, too! Not for the first time did it occur to our psychologist that tact was wasted upon this downright young person.

He decided not to be tactful any longer.

"I'm getting well so rapidly," he said, "that I shall have to admit it soon."

The girl nodded.

"Are you glad?"

"Of course I am glad."

"I shall walk with a cane almost in no time. And when I can walk, I shall have to go away."

"Yes." There was no hesitation in her prompt agreement. Neither did she add any polite regrets. The professor felt unduly irritated. He had never become used to her ungirlish taciturnity. It always excited him.

The women he had known, especially the younger women, had all been chatterers. They had talked and he had not listened. This girl said little and her silences seemed to clamour in his ears. Well, she would have to answer this time.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked plainly.

"I don't want you to go." Her tone was thoughtful. "But I know you can't stay. One has to accept things."

"One doesn't. One can make things happen."

"How?"

"By willing."

"Do you honestly believe that?" He was astonished at the depth of mockery in her tone.

"I certainly do believe it. I'll prove it if you like."

"How?"

"By staying."

Again she was silent.

He went on eagerly. "Why shouldn't I stay--for a time at least? I have plenty of work to go on with. Indeed it was with the definite intention of doing this work that I came. If you want me, I'll stay right enough.

The bargain that was made with your father was a straight, fair business arrangement. I have no scruples about requiring him to carry out his part of it The trouble was that it seemed as if insistence would be unfair to you. But if you and I can arrange that--if you will agree to let me do what I can to help, ch.o.r.es, you know, carrying wood and so on, then I should not need to feel myself a burden."

"You have not been a burden."

"Thanks. You have been extraordinarily kind. As for the rest of it--I mentioned the matter to Dr. Farr this morning."

She was interested now. He could see her eyes, intent, through the falling shadow of her hair.

"I reminded him that he had offered me the services of a secretary and explained that I was ready to avail myself of his offer."

"And what did he say to that?"

"Well--er--we agreed to leave the decision to you."

"Was that all?"

"Practically all."

"Practically, but not quite. You quarreled, didn't you? Frankly, I do not understand father's att.i.tude but I know what his att.i.tude is. He does not want you here. Neither you nor anyone else. The secretarial work you offer would be--I can't tell you exactly what it would be to me. It would teach me something--and I am so hungry to know! But he will find some way to make it impossible. You will have to go."