rried home along the Broad. The girl perceived
little or nothing on the way; but her face was crossed by a multitude of
expressions, which meant a very active brain. Perhaps sarcasm or scorn
prevailed, yet mingled sometimes with distress or perplexity.

The sight of the low gabled front of Medburn. House recalled her
thoughts. She remembered her purchases and Nora's disapproving eyes. It
would be better to go and beard her uncle at once. But just as she
approached the house, she became aware of a slenderly built man in
flannels coming out of the gates of St. Cyprian's, the college of which
the gate and outer court stood next door to the Hoopers.

He saw her, stopped with a start of pleasure, and came eagerly towards
her.

"Lady Constance! Where have you sprung from? Oh, I know--you are with
the Hoopers! Have you been here long?"

They shook hands, and Constance obediently answered the newcomer's
questions. She seemed indeed to like answering them, and nothing could
have been more courteous and kind than his manner of asking them. He was
clearly a senior man, a don, who, after a strenuous morning of
lecturing, was hurrying--in the festal Eights week--to meet some friends
on the river. His face was one of singular charm, the features regular,
the skin a pale olive, the hair and eyes intensely black. Whereas
Falloden's features seemed to lie, so to speak, on the surface, the
mouth and eyes scarcely disturbing the general level of the face
mask--no indentation in the chin, and no perceptible hollow tinder the
brow,--this man's eyes were deeply sunk, and every outline of the
face--cheeks, chin and temples--chiselled and fined away into an almost
classical perfection. The man's aspect indeed was Greek, and ought only
to have expressed the Greek blitheness, the Greek joy in life. But, in
truth, it was a very modern and complex soul that breathed from both
face and form.

Constance had addressed him as "Mr. Sorell." He turned to walk with her
to her door, talking eagerly. He was asking her about various friends in
whose company they had last met--apparently at Rome; and he made various
references to "your mother," which Constance accepted gently, as though
they pleased her.

They paused at the Hoopers' door.

"But when can I see you?" he asked. "Has Mrs. Hooper a day at home? Will
you come to lunch with me soon? I should like to show you my rooms. I
have some of those nice things we bought at Syracuse--your father and