entlemen's rooms
straight," against the arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster
in hand, and by the light of a single candle that barely survived the
draught from the open window, she moved to and fro about the Duke's
room, a wan and listless figure, casting queerest shadows on the
ceiling. There were other candles that she might have lit, but this
ambiguous gloom suited her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say, Katie
was sullen. She had not ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was even more
anger than grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure as ever
that he had not loved Miss Dobson; but this only made it the more
outrageous that he had died because of her. What was there in this woman
that men should so demean themselves for her? Katie, as you know, had at
first been unaffected by the death of the undergraduates at large. But,
because they too had died for Zuleika, she was bitterly incensed against
them now. What could they have admired in such a woman? She didn't even
look like a lady. Katie caught the dim reflection of herself in the
mirror. She took the candle from the table, and examined the reflection
closely. She was sure she was just as pretty as Miss Dobson. It was only
the clothes that made the difference--the clothes and the behaviour.
Katie threw back her head, and smiled brilliantly, hand on hip. She
nodded reassuringly at herself; and the black pearl and the pink danced
a duet. She put the candle down, and undid her hair, roughly parting
it on one side, and letting it sweep down over the further eyebrow. She
fixed it in that fashion, and posed accordingly. Now! But gradually her
smile relaxed, and a mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that
even so, after all, she hadn't just that something which somehow Miss
Dobson had. She put away from her the hasty dream she had had of a whole
future generation of undergraduates drowning themselves, every one, in
honour of her. She went wearily on with her work.

Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs, to
do Mr. Noaks' room.

She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so often
this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.

Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books.
These she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they
bore witness to.

The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her pause--seemed,
indeed, to transfix her.

Mr. Noaks had n