many more scenes till the farce is played out? There is something
flattering to one's vanity in this careless playing with fate; it is
edifying, moreover, to sot circumstances at defiance in this way, now
and then, to assert one's freedom. Freedom! What a joke the word must
be to whoever is pulling the wires and making us poor puppets dance at
his pleasure. Pity that we have to pay the piper so heavily for our
involuntary jigging!"

A passage from the letter Waymark wrote to his friend Casti, on the
evening when his school-work came to an end. That night he sought rest
early, and slept well. The sensations with which he woke next morning
were such as he had not experienced for a long time. He was at
liberty,--with six pounds ten in his pocket. He could do what he liked
and go whither he liked,--till lack of a dinner should remind him that
a man's hardest master is his own body. He dressed leisurely, and,
having dressed, treated himself to an egg for breakfast. Absolutely no
need for hurry; the thought of school-hours dismissed for ever; a
horizon quite free from the vision of hateful toil; in the real sky
overhead a gleam of real sunshine, as if to make credible this sudden
change. His mood was still complete recklessness, a revolt against the
idea of responsibility, indifference to all beyond the moment.

It was Thursday; the morrow would be Good Friday; after that the
intervention of two clear days before the commencement of a new week In
the meantime the sun was really shining, and the fresh spring air
invited to the open ways. Waymark closed the door of his room behind
him, and went downstairs, whistling to himself. But, before reaching
the bottom, he turned and went back again. It seemed warm enough to sit
in one of the parks and read. He laid his hand on a book, almost at
haphazard, to put in his pocket. Then he walked very leisurely along
Kennington Road, and on, and on, till he had crossed the river.

Wondering in which direction he should next turn, he suddenly found
himself repeating, with unaccountable transition of thought, the words
"South Bank, Regent's Park." In all likelihood, he said to himself
presently, they were suggested by some inscription on a passing
omnibus, noted unconsciously. The address was that he had read in Miss
Enderby's note-book. Why not ramble in that direction as well as
another, and amuse himself by guessing which house it was that the
governess lived in? He had not seen her sinc