he ashes from his cigar. "I feel guilty to think that I have stolen
some of your time, when I have nothing to give you in return but good
wishes."

It was impossible to guess whether Emmet were surprised or disappointed
at this disclosure of the comparative futility of his visit.

"Good wishes," he said, "are always worth having, and especially from
this college, for I tell you there are mighty few men connected with
this place that wish me well."

Leigh, remembering the bishop and Cardington, did not doubt the truth
of this declaration. He wondered what his colleague would surmise
should he come in at that moment. The situation would be complicated,
and would no doubt gain in interest, but it was an interest he was
content to forego. He was impressed by a hint of passion and
resentment in his guest's voice, restrained as by one not entirely sure
of his hearer.

In Leigh's attitude there was no affectation. He was genuinely
interested in the situation, and he brought to it all a Westerner's
lack of class prejudice, all his appreciation of a man for his
intrinsic worth, irrespective of college degrees and family and
fortune. It was some time before Emmet, feeling his way by little and
little, realised the anomaly of a professor in St. George's Hall with
Democratic sympathies. Miss Wycliffe's judgment of the two men, her
belief that they would get on well together, was entirely justified by
the result, which became undoubted before an hour had passed. Emmet
was by no means lacking in shrewdness, and, having once become
convinced that caution was needless, he talked more freely, until, to
his listener's interested observation, he appeared quite another man.
He began to show some of that eloquence of which Cardington had spoken,
an eloquence that derived its effect not from the artifices of
rhetoric, but from a deep conviction and a personal grievance. He
spoke in adequate language, that left no doubt of his meaning, and the
meaning itself was sufficiently striking to rivet attention. Leigh
began to realise why it was that the bishop had thought him dangerous.
He forgot to wonder at Emmet's gift of speech in the new point of view
that was gradually presented to his mind. He was struck particularly
by the fact that St. George's Hall, which seemed to him comparatively
insignificant in the educational world, should loom so large in this
man's horizon that the towers which stood to him for star-gazing and
cloist