ot because I think
it's any good." He put down the cat with a kiss. "Good-bye, Mimi," he
said; "remember me, I beseech you!" and he hurried away.

Howard sat still for a minute or two, looking at the fire; then he gave
a laugh, got up, stretched himself, and went out for a walk.

Even so quiet a thing as a walk was not unattended by a certain amount
of ceremonial. Howard passed some six or seven men of his acquaintance,
some of whom presented a stick or raised a stiff hand without a smile
or indeed any sign of recognition; one went so far as to say, "Hullo,
Kennedy!" and one eager conversationalist went so far as to say, "Out
for a walk?" Howard pushed on, walking lightly and rapidly, and found
himself at last at Barton, one of those entirely delightful pastoral
villages that push up so close to Cambridge on every side; a vague
collection of quaint irregular cottages, whitewashed and thatched, with
bits of green common interspersed, an old manorial farm with its byres
and ricks, surrounded by a moat fringed with little pollarded elms. The
plain ancient tower of the church looked gravely out over all. In the
distance, over pastoral country, rose low wolds, pleasantly shaped,
skirted with little hamlets, surrounded by orchards; the old untroubled
necessary work of the world flows on in these fields and villages,
peopled with lives hardly conscious of themselves, with no aims or
theories, just toiling, multiplying, dying, existing, it would seem,
merely to feed and clothe the more active part of the world. Howard
loved such little interludes of silence, out in the fresh country, when
the calm life of tree and herb, the delicate whisper of dry,
evenly-blowing breezes, tranquillised and hushed his restless thoughts.
He lost himself in a formless reverie, exercising no control over his
trivial thoughts.

By four o'clock he was back, made himself some tea, put on a cap and
gown, and walked out to a meeting. In a high bare room in the
University offices the Committee sat. The Vice-Chancellor, a big,
grave, solid man, Master of St. Benedict's, sat in courteous state.
Half a dozen dons sat round the great tables, ranged in a square. The
business was mostly formal. The Vice-Chancellor read the points from a
paper in his resonant voice, comments and suggestions were made, and
the Secretary noted down conclusions. Howard was struck, as he often
had been before, to see how the larger questions of principle passed
almost unnoticed,