sence became more
acute. His mother wrote to say that she would not be back for three
days, and the only consolation was the hint that most probably Stella
would come back with her.

Meanwhile this was Saturday, and school did not begin until Tuesday.
Time after time Michael set out towards Trelawny Road; time after time
he checked himself and fought his way home again. Mrs. Haden had been
right; he had behaved badly. Lily was too young to bear the burden of
their passionate love. And was she happy without him? Was she sighing
for him? Or would she forget him and resume an existence undisturbed by
him? But the thought of wasted time, of her hours again unoccupied, of
her footsteps walking to places ignorant of him was intolerable.

Sunday came round, and Michael thought that he would fling himself into
the stream of callers; but the idea of doing so became humiliating, and
instead he circled drearily round the neighbouring roads, circled in
wide curves, and sometimes even swooped into the forbidden diameter of
Trelawny Road. But always before he could bring himself to pass her very
door, he would turn back into his circle and the melancholy Sabbath
sunlight of May.

Twilight no more entranced him, and the lovers leaning over to one
another languorously in their endearments, moving with intertwined arms
and measured steps between the wine-dark houses, annoyed him with their
fatuous complacency and their bland eyes. He wanted her, his slim and
silent Lily, who blossomed in the night-time like a flower. Her wrists
were cool as porcelain and the contact of her form swaying to his
progress was light as silk. Everyone else had their contentment, and he
must endure wretchedly without the visible expression of his beauty. It
was not yet too late to see her; and Michael circled nearer to Trelawny
Road. This time he came to Lily's house; he paused within sound of
laughter upon the easeful step; and then again he turned away and walked
furiously on through the empty Sabbath streets.

In his room, when it was now too late to think of calling, Michael
laughed at himself for being so sensitive to Mrs. Haden's reproaches. He
told himself that all she said was due to the irritation of the moment,
that to-morrow he must go again as if nothing had happened, that people
had no right to interfere between lovers. But then, in all its florid
bulk, St. James' School rose up, and Michael admitted to himself that to
the world he was merely