one thing. The cloud of grief and illness, which had fallen so
heavily on her youth, was just lifting under the natural influences of
time at the moment when she and Falloden first came across each other.
It was a moment for her of strong reaction, of a welling-up and
welling-back of life, after a kind of suspension. The strong young,
fellow, with his good looks, his masterful ways, and his ability--in
spite of the barely disguised audacity which seemed inseparable from the
homage it pleased him to pay to women--had made a deep and thrilling
impression upon her youth and sex.

And yet she had never hesitated when he had asked her to marry him. Ride
with him--laugh with him--quarrel with him, yes!--marry him, no!
Something very deep in her recoiled. She refused him, and then had lain
awake most of the night thinking of her mother and feeling ecstatically
sure, while the tears came raining, that the dear ghost approved that
part of the business at least, if no other.

And how could there be any compunction about it? Douglas Falloden, with
his egotism, his pride in himself, his family, his wits, his boundless
confidence in his own brilliant future, was surely fair game. Such men
do not break their hearts for love. She had refused his request that he
might write to her without a qualm; and mostly because she imagined so
vividly what would have been his look of triumph had she granted it.
Then she had spent the rest of the winter and early spring in thinking
about him. And now she was going to do this reckless thing, out of
sheer wilfulness, sheer thirst for adventure. She had always been a
spoilt child, brought up with boundless indulgence, and accustomed to
all the excitements of life. It looked as though Douglas Falloden were
to be her excitement in Oxford. Girls like the two Miss Mansons might
take possession of him in public, so long as she commanded those
undiscovered rides and talks which revealed the real man. At the same
time, he should never be able to feel secure that she would do his
bidding, or keep appointments. As soon as Lady Laura's civil note
arrived, she was determined to refuse it. He had counted on her coming;
therefore she would not go. Her first move had been a deliberate check;
her second should be a concession. In any case she would keep the
upper hand.

Nevertheless there was an inner voice which mocked, through all the
patting and curling and rolling applied by Annette's skilled hands to
her mis