t of the
automobile, Sylvia herself, lovelier, more removed than ever. Betty
Alston sat at her side. Evidently neither had observed the encounter,
for they laughed and chatted, probably about the terror-stricken
Freshmen.

George swallowed hard.

"I heard you were going to be here. I wanted to keep out of your way."

"But why?" Lambert laughed. "You have a scholastic appearance. You never
mean----"

"I am taking my entrance examinations," George said. "I want to make
good here."

He looked straight into Lambert's eyes. His voice became incisive,
threatening.

"I will make good. Don't try giving me away. Don't you tell Miss Alston
where I came from----"

"Yeh. The big fellow! Morton! Stringham and Green say he's going to be a
wonder."

It drifted to them from the passing youths.

Lambert whistled. The mockery left his voice.

"Go as far as you can," he said.

And followed it with:

"Don't be a self-conscious ass."

He smiled whimsically.

"Glad to have run into you--George."

The driver had noticed Lambert. The automobile glided nearer.

"I--I've got to get away," George said, hastily. "I don't want your
sister to see me."

Lambert turned. His voice, in turn, was a trifle threatening.

"That's all nonsense. She's forgotten all about you; she wouldn't know
you from Adam."

George couldn't help staring. What a contrast the two young women
offered! He wanted to realize that he actually looked at Sylvia Planter,
Sylvia of the flesh, Sylvia who had expressed for him an endless
contempt. But he couldn't help seeing also the golden hair and the soft
colouring of Betty Alston.

Lambert sprang into the car. Sylvia and Betty both glanced at the man
he had left. George waited. What would happen now? Sylvia's colour did
not heighten. Her eyes did not falter. Betty smiled and waved her hand.
George took off his cap, still expectant. Sylvia's lifeless stare
continued until the car had rolled away. George sighed, relaxed, and
went on.

Had Lambert been right? He didn't want to believe that. It hurt too
much.

"She saw me," he muttered. "She stared, not as if she saw an unknown
man, but as if she wanted to make me think she saw nothing. She saw me."

But he couldn't be sure. It seemed to him then that he wanted more than
anything in the world to be sure.

And he had not taken advantage of his chance. Instead of looking at her
and fixing the stark fact of hatred in his mind, he had only thought
with an