knowledge, materials that he had gathered for his own use, all were at
the service of younger men who appealed to him for guidance. He grasped
at opportunities for them, found gaps that they could fill, he
criticised, suggested, pushed; and so the years went on, and his own
books remained unwritten. Only now, when a new world seemed to him to be
in the making--he sat down deliberately to give his own thoughts
expression.

Men like Middleton are rare in any University; a man unselfish enough
and able enough to spend himself, sacrifice himself in "making men." And
even this outstanding usefulness, this masterly hold he had of the best
men who passed through King's would not have forced his colleagues to
elect him as Warden. They made him Warden because they couldn't help
themselves, because he was in all ways the dominating personality of the
college, and even the book weary, the dull, the frankly cynical among
the Fellows could not escape from the conviction that King's would be
safe in Middleton's hands, so there was no reason to seek further
afield.

But women and sentiment had played a very small part in the Warden's
life. His acquaintance with women had been superficial. He did not
profess to understand them. Gwendolen Scott had for several days sat at
his table, looking like a flower. That her emotions were shallow and her
mind vacant did not occur to the Warden. She was like a flower--that was
all! His business had been with men--young men. And just now, as one by
one, these young men, once the interest and pride of his college, were
stricken down as they stood upon the very threshold of life, the
Warden's heart had become empty and aching.

And now, on this autumn evening, this sobbing girl seemed, somehow, all
part of the awful tragedy that was being enacted, only in her case--he
had the power to help. He need not let her wander alone into the
wilderness of life.

For the first time in his life, his sense of power betrayed him. It was
in his own hands to mould the future of this helpless girl--so he
imagined!

He experienced two or three delicious moments as he walked towards her,
knowing that she would melt into his arms and give up all her sorrows
into his keeping. She was waiting on his will! But was this love?

The Warden was well aware that it was not love, such as a man of his
temperament conceived love to be.

But his youth was passed. The time had gone when he could fall in love
and marry a com