Constance was expected; but when they did meet it was evident that he
got but a small share of her attention.

Once Sorell saw them in what appeared intimate conversation at a Christ
Church party. Falloden--who was flushed and frowning--was talking
rapidly in a low voice; and Constance was listening to him with a look
half soft, half mocking. Her replies seemed to irritate her companion,
for they parted abruptly, Constance looking back to smile a
sarcastic good-bye.

Again, on the Sunday before the Encaenia, a famous high churchman
preached in the University church. The church was densely crowded, and
Sorell, sitting in the masters' seats under the pulpit, saw Constance
dimly, in the pews reserved for wives and families of the University
doctors and masters, beneath the gallery. Immediately to her right, in
the very front of the undergraduates' gallery, he perceived the tall
form and striking head of Douglas Falloden; and when the sermon was over
he saw that the young man was one of the first to push his way out.

"He hopes to waylay her," thought Sorell.

If so, he was unsuccessful. Sorell emerging with the stream into the
High Street saw Connie's black and white parasol a little ahead.
Falloden was on the point of overtaking her, when Radowitz, the
golden-haired, the conspicuous, crossed his path. Constance looked
round, smiled, shook hands with Radowitz, and apparently not seeing
Falloden in her rear, walked on, in merry talk with the beaming
musician. Sorell, perhaps, was the only person who noticed the look of
pale fury with which Falloden dropped out of the crowded pathway,
crossed the street, and entered a smart club opposite, exclusively
frequented by "bloods."

Commem. week itself, however, would give a man in love plenty of
chances. Sorell was well aware of it. Monday dawned with misty sunshine
after much rain. In the Turl after luncheon, Sorell met Nora Hooper
hurrying along with note-books under her arm. They turned down
Brasenose Lane together, and she explained that she was on her way to
the Bodleian where she was already at work on her first paid job. Her
pleasure in it, and the childish airs she gave herself in regard to it,
touched and amused Sorell, with whom--through the Greek lessons--she had
become a great favourite.

As they parted at the doorway leading to the Bodleian, she said with a
mischievous look--

"Did you know Mr. Falloden's party is off?"

And she explained that for the followi