She had expected him.

“Well,” she asked, “it is overwork, isn’t it?”

“Very much overwork; and no wonder.  I knew she was a St. Sidwell’s woman as soon as I saw her.”

“That was clever of you.  And do you always know a St. Sidwell’s woman when you see one?”

“I do; they all go like this, more or less.  It seems to me that St. Sidwell’s sacrifices its women to its girls, and its girls to itself.  I don’t imagine you’ve much to do with the place, so you won’t mind my saying so.”

Rhoda smiled a little maliciously.

“You seem to take a great deal for granted.  As it happens I am Classical Mistress there.”

Dr. Cautley looked at her and bit his lip.  He was annoyed with himself for his blunder and with her for being anything but Rhoda Vivian—­pure and simple.

Rhoda laughed frankly at his confusion.

“Never mind.  Appearances are deceitful.  I’m glad I don’t look like it.”

“You certainly do not.  Still, Miss Quincey is a warning to anybody.”

“She?  She was never fit for the life.”

“No.  Your race is to the swift and your battle to the strong.”

He was still looking at her as he spoke.  She was looking straight before her, her nostrils slightly distended, her grey eyes wide, as if she sniffed the battle, saw the goal.

“We must make her strong,” said he.

She had quickened her pace as if under a renewed impulse of energy and will.  Suddenly at the door of the College she stopped and held out her hand.

“You will look after her well, will you not?” Her voice was resonant on the note of appeal.

Now you could withstand Rhoda in her domineering mood if you were strong enough and cool enough; but when she looked straight through your eyes in that way she was irresistible.  Cautley did not attempt to resist her.

He went on his way thinking how intolerable the question might have been in some one else’s mouth; how suggestive of impertinent coquetry, the beautiful woman’s assumption that he would do for her what he would not do for insignificant Miss Quincey.  She had taken it for granted that his interest in Miss Quincey was supreme.

CHAPTER V

Healers and Regenerators

Rhoda had spoken to Miss Cursiter.  Nobody ever knew what she said to her, but the next day Miss Cursiter’s secretary had the pleasure to inform Miss Quincey that she would have leave of absence for three months, and that her place would be kept for her.

Miss Quincey had become a person of importance.  Old Martha fumbled about, unnaturally attentive, even Mrs. Moon acknowledged Juliana’s right to be ill if her foolish mind were set on it.  There was nothing active or spontaneous in the Old Lady’s dislike of her niece, it was simply a habit she had got.