ey don't come to see Lily," Michael pointed out. "They come to
see you."

"Are you trying to be rude to me?" Mrs. Haden asked.

"No, no," Michael assured her. "And, honestly, Mrs. Haden, I didn't
think you minded me taking Lily out."

"But what's going to happen?" Mrs. Haden demanded.

"Well--I--I suppose I want to marry Lily."

Michael wondered if this statement sounded as absurd to Mrs. Haden as it
sounded to himself.

"What nonsense!" she snapped. "What utter nonsense! A schoolboy talking
such nonsense. Marriage indeed! You know as well as I do that you've
never thought about such a step."

"But I have," said Michael. "Very often, as it happens."

"Then you mustn't go out with Lily again. Why, it's worse than I
thought. I'm horrified."

"Do you mean I'm never to come here again?" Michael asked in despair.

"Come occasionally," said Mrs. Haden. "But only occasionally."

"All right. Thanks," said Michael, feeling stunned by this unexpected
rebuke. "Good night, Mrs. Haden."

In the hall he found Doris.

"Well?" she asked.

"Your mother says I'm only to come occasionally."

"Oh, that won't last," said Doris encouragingly.

"Yes, but I'm not sure that she isn't right," said Michael. "Oh, Doris,
damn. I wish I couldn't always see other people's point of view."

"Mother often has fits of violent morality," said Doris. "And then we
always catch it. But really they don't last."

"Doris, you don't understand. It isn't your mother's disapproval I'm
worrying over. It's myself. Lily might have waited to say good-night,"
Michael murmured miserably.

But straight upon his complaint he saw Lily leaning over from the
landing above and blowing kisses, and he felt more calm.

"Don't worry too much about Lily," whispered Doris, as she held the door
open for him.

"Why?"

"I shouldn't, that's all," she said enigmatically, and closed the door
very gently.

At the time Michael was not conscious of any deep impression made by the
visit to Oxford for his Matriculation; he was too much worried by the
puzzle of his future conduct with regard to Lily. He felt dull in the
rooms where he spent two nights alone; he felt shy among the forty or
fifty boys from other public-schools; he was glad to go back to London.
Vaguely the tall grey tower remained in his mind, and vaguely the cool
Gothic seemed to offer a shelter from the problems of behaviour, but
that was all.

When he returned, the torment of Lily's desired pre