'What is this place you are going to?' asked Miss Gordon, with animation.
'Isn't that a vague description? What goes on there?'
'They read papers and exhibit specimens.'
'But I don't know. What do you mean by "prehistoric man"?'
'Man who lived so long ago that he doesn't know anything about himself.'
'You will go, Mr Osborne, and bring us back a full account of what this dreadful Prehistoric Society is like?' Miss Gordon smiled brightly, and tossed her head gaily.
'I will go, of course. I am not afraid the Prehistoric or any other society of mere men can very seriously affect my mind on any matter of faith. It is the province of men of science to be scientific. It is the province of theologians to be theological. But you cannot pit one against the other, any more than you can pit a star against an idea.'
The men prepared to leave. Having drawn Miss Osborne's arm within her own, Miss Gordon led the other girl after the men into the hall.
'We shall be back in time to take you to the Holborn for dinner,' said Nevill, as he helped Osborne to get on his overcoat.
The two girls, still arm-in-arm, followed the two men out to the door. Peter's Row had but one entrance, and was as quiet as a country lane. The two men went out on the doorstep, and stood there to say adieu. Still keeping the arm of Miss Osborne under her own, Miss Gordon led the fair girl out until they too stood on the steps of the hotel.
Marie smiled at Osborne, and said,--' Take care you don't come back a disciple of this dreadful Mr Nevill.'
'I do not think there is much reason to fear,' he said.
'I promise you I will not attempt to make a convert,' said Nevill, as he shook himself into his overcoat and took Osborne's arm.
Arm-in-arm the two young men walked briskly down Peter's Row. Arm-in-arm the two girls watched them as they went.
When the men reached the end of the Row, about a hundred yards from where the girls stood, they turned round and lifted their hats. The girls waved farewells.
As the four stood thus confronting one another for a moment, a more striking contrast could not easily be found.
The face of Nevill was dark and restless and discontented. The fair white face of Osborne was illumined by the light of love and a smile of great affection and delicacy as his eyes fell on the girl of his worship. Miss Gordon had completely shaken off the effects of her vigil, and was radiant with health and beauty and happiness. Miss Osborne was grave and timorous. She looked paler than usual, and waved her hand to her brother in a dull dead way. In a moment the men disappeared.