, dim figures in the twilight, followed Mrs.
Hooper and Alice, with the two other ladies, their cavaliers having
deserted them.

"I am so glad you like Mr. Pryce," said Sorell suddenly.

Constance looked at him in astonishment.

"But why? I don't like him very much!"

"Really? I was glad because I suppose--doesn't everybody suppose?"--he
looked at her smiling--"that there'll be some news in that quarter
presently?"

Constance was silent a moment. At last, she said--

"You mean--he'll propose to Alice?"

"Isn't that what's expected?" He too had reddened. He was a shy man, and
he was suddenly conscious that he had done a marked thing.

Another silence. Then Constance faced him, her face now more than
flushed--aflame.

"I see. You think I have been behaving badly?"

He stammered.

"I didn't know perhaps--whether--you have been such a little while
here--whether you had come across the Oxford gossip. I wish
sometimes--you know I'm an old friend of your uncle--that it could be
settled. Little Miss Alice has begun to look very worn."

Constance walked on, her eyes on the ground. He could see the soft lace
on her breast fluttering. What foolish quixotry--what jealousy for an
ideal--had made him run this hideous risk of offending her? He held his
breath till she should look at him again. When she did, the beauty of
the look abashed him.

"Thank you!" she said quietly. "Thank you very much. Alice annoyed
me--she doesn't like me, you see--and I took a mean revenge. Well, now
you understand--how I miss mamma!"

She held out her hand to him impulsively, and he enclosed it warmly in
his; asking her, rather incoherently, to forgive his impertinence. Was
it to be Ella Risborough's legacy to him--this futile yearning to
help--to watch over--her orphaned child?

Much good the legacy would do him, when Connie's own will was really
engaged! He happened to know that Douglas Falloden was already in Oxford
again, and in a few more days Greats would be over, and the young man's
energies released. What possible justification had he, Sorell, for any
sort of interference in this quarter? It seemed to him, indeed, as to
many others, that the young man showed every sign of a selfish and
violent character. What then? Are rich and handsome husbands so
plentiful? Have the moralists ever had their way with youth and sex in
their first turbulent hour?

CHAPTER VIII

This little scene with Sorell, described in the last chapter,