He passed out of one of the long windows; Pemberton saw him
go and lean on the parapet of the terrace. He remained there while the
young man took leave of his mother, who, on Pemberton's looking as if he
expected a farewell from him, interposed with: "Leave him, leave him;
he's so strange!" Pemberton supposed her to fear something he might say.
"He's a genius--you'll love him," she added. "He's much the most
interesting person in the family." And before he could invent some
civility to oppose to this she wound up with: "But we're all good, you
know!"
"He's a genius--you'll love him!" were words that recurred to our
aspirant before the Friday, suggesting among many things that geniuses
were not invariably loveable. However, it was all the better if there
was an element that would make tutorship absorbing: he had perhaps taken
too much for granted it would only disgust him. As he left the villa
after his interview he looked up at the balcony and saw the child leaning
over it. "We shall have great larks!" he called up.
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