A man who chanced to be
walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled
in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."
"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?"
The Skeptic nodded solemnly.
"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before
yesterday he was free!"
He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and
hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A
minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at
the window, was returning his wave.
"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds
heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably
rather thinning."
"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the
Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.
"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty
breakfast we had just consumed.
"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't
it?" said Hepatica presently.
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