embattled parapets of Magdalen. There are
worse lives. Though selfish, he was never cruel; though affected
in manner, he never posed. Like Margaret, he disdained the heroic
equipment, and it was only after many visits that men discovered
Schlegel to possess a character and a brain. He had done well in Mods,
much to the surprise of those who attended lectures and took proper
exercise, and was now glancing disdainfully at Chinese in case he
should some day consent to qualify as a Student Interpreter. To him thus
employed Helen entered. A telegram had preceded her.

He noticed, in a distant way, that his sister had altered.

As a rule he found her too pronounced, and had never come across this
look of appeal, pathetic yet dignified--the look of a sailor who has
lost everything at sea.

"I have come from Oniton," she began. "There has been a great deal of
trouble there."

"Who's for lunch?" said Tibby, picking up the claret, which was warming
in the hearth. Helen sat down submissively at the table. "Why such an
early start?" he asked.

"Sunrise or something--when I could get away."

"So I surmise. Why?"

"I don't know what's to be done, Tibby. I am very much upset at a piece
of news that concerns Meg, and do not want to face her, and I am not
going back to Wickham Place. I stopped here to tell you this."

The landlady came in with the cutlets. Tibby put a marker in the leaves
of his Chinese Grammar and helped them. Oxford--the Oxford of the
vacation--dreamed and rustled outside, and indoors the little fire was
coated with grey where the sunshine touched it. Helen continued her odd
story.

"Give Meg my love and say that I want to be alone. I mean to go to
Munich or else Bonn."

"Such a message is easily given," said her brother.

"As regards Wickham Place and my share of the furniture, you and she are
to do exactly as you like. My own feeling is that everything may just as
well be sold. What does one want with dusty economic books, which have
made the world no better, or with mother's hideous chiffoniers? I have
also another commission for you. I want you to deliver a letter." She
got up. "I haven't written it yet. Why shouldn't I post it, though?" She
sat down again. "My head is rather wretched. I hope that none of your
friends are likely to come in."

Tibby locked the door. His friends often found it in this condition.
Then he asked whether anything had gone wrong at Evie's wedding.

"Not there," said Hele