n the door; he looked as if about to
spring--then refrained, and resigning himself to the unmistakable
decision of the Fates, he remained standing, staring down at the
table-cloth through his spectacles, with his cheeks flushed and his
heart glad.

Mrs. Stockwell passed out of the room in front of May Dashwood,
gratified, warm and trying to conceal the backs of her boots.

Finally the Stockwells went away, and then Lady Dashwood took her niece
to the Magdalen walk. There among the last shreds of autumn, and in that
muzzy golden sunshine of Oxford, they walked and talked with the
constraint of Gwen's presence.

At tea two or three people called, but the Warden did not appear even
for a hasty cup. At dinner an old pupil of the Warden's--lamed by the
war--occupied the attention of the little party.

Gwen's spirits rose at the sight of a really young man, but she
remembered her mother's admonition and did not make any attempt to
attract his attention beyond opening her eyes now and then suddenly and
widely and with an ecstasy of interest at some invisible object just
above his head. Whether the youthful warrior's imagination was excited
by this "passage of arms" Gwen never knew, because the Warden took his
pupil off to the library after dinner, and did not even bring him into
the drawing-room to bid farewell.

In the quiet of the drawing-room Gwen fell into thought. She wondered
whether the Warden expected her to come and knock on his library door
and walk in and tell him that she really did want to be married to him?
Or had he read that letter and----? Why, she had thought all this over a
hundred times, and was no farther on than she had been before.

After playing the Reverie by Slapovski, which Mrs. Dashwood had not yet
heard, and which she expressed a desire to hear, Gwen settled down to
knitting a sock. She had been knitting that sock for five months. It was
surprising how small the foot was, at least the toe part; the heel
indeed was ample. She had followed the directions with great care, and
yet the stupid thing would come out wrong. It was irritating to see Mrs.
Dashwood knitting away at such a pace. It made Gwen giddy to look at her
hands. Lady Dashwood took up a book and read passages aloud. This was so
intolerably dull that Gwen found it difficult to keep her eyes open. It
is always more tiring when nothing is going on than when plenty of
things are going on!

Lady Dashwood had just finished reading a pas