ago!" he said to the Vice-Chancellor. "I adored her mother! And
Constance is a charming child. She and I made great friends. Has she
come to live in Oxford for a time? Lucky Oxford! What--with the Hoopers?
Don't know 'em. I shall introduce her to some of my particular allies."

Which he did in profusion, so that Constance found herself bewildered by
a constant stream of new acquaintances--fellows, professors, heads of
colleges--of various ages and types, who looked at her with amused and
kindly eyes, talked to her for a few pleasant minutes and departed,
quite conscious that they had added a pebble to the girl's pile and
delighted to do it.

"It is your cousin, not the Lord Chancellor, who is the guest of the
evening!" laughed Herbert Pryce, who had made his way back at last to
Alice Hooper. "I never saw such a success!"

Alice tossed her head in a petulant silence; and a madrigal by the
college choir checked any further remarks from Mr. Pryce. After the
madrigal came a general move for refreshments, which were set out in the
college library and in the garden. The Lord Chancellor must needs offer
his arm to his host's sister, and lead the way. The Warden followed,
with the wife of the Dean of Christ Church, and the hall began to thin.
Lord Glaramara looked back, smiling and beckoning to Constance, as
though to say--"Don't altogether desert me!"

But a voice--a tall figure--interposed--

"Lady Constance, let me take you into the garden? It's much nicer than
upstairs."

A slight shiver ran, unseen, through the girl's frame. She wished to say
no; she tried to say no. And instead she looked up--haughty, but
acquiescent.

"Very well."

And she followed Douglas Falloden through the panelled passage outside
the hall leading to the garden. Sorell, who had hurried up to find her,
arrived in time to see her disappearing through the lights and shadows
of the moonlit lawn.

* * * * *

"We can do this sort of thing pretty well, can't we? It's banal because
it happens every year, and because it's all mixed up with salmon
mayonnaise, and cider-cup--and it isn't banal, because it's Oxford!"

[Illustration: _Constance sat in the shadow of a plane-tree with
Falloden at her feet_]

Constance was sitting under the light shadow of a plane-tree, not yet
fully out; Falloden was stretched on the grass at her feet. Before her
ran a vast lawn which had taken generations to make; and all round
it,