armth, a deeper and tenderer charm
breathed from her whole aspect. Nora, though so much the younger, had
hitherto been the comforter and sustainer of Connie; now for the first
time, the tired girl felt an impulse--firmly held back--to throw her
arms round Connie's neck and tell her own troubles.

She did not betray it, however. There were so many things she wanted to
know. First--how was it that Connie had come back so soon? Nora
understood there were invitations to the Tamworths and others. Mr.
Sorell had reported that the Langmoors wished to carry their niece with
them on a round of country-house visits in the autumn, and that Connie
had firmly stuck to it that she was due at Oxford for the beginning
of term.

"Why didn't you go," said Nora, half scoffing--"with all those frocks
wasting in the drawers?"

Connie retorted that, as for parties, Oxford, had seemed to her in the
summer term the most gay and giddy place she had ever been in, and that
she had always understood that in the October and Lent terms people
dined out every night.

"But all the same--one can think a little here," she said slowly.

"You didn't care a bit about that when you first came!" cried Nora. "You
despised us because we weren't soldiers, or diplomats, or politicians.
You thought we were a little priggish, provincial world where nothing
mattered. You were sorry for us because we had only books and ideas!"

"I wasn't!" said Connie indignantly. "Only I didn't think Oxford was
everything--and it isn't! Nora!"--she looked round the Oxford street
with a sudden ardour, her eyes running over the groups of
undergraduates hurrying back to hall--"do you think these English boys
could ever--well, fight--and die--for what you call ideas--for their
country--as Otto Radowitz could die for Poland?"

"Try them!" The reply rang out defiantly. Connie laughed.

"They'll never have the chance. Who'll ever attack England? If we had
only something--something splendid, and not too far away!--to look back
upon, as the Italians look back on Garibaldi--or to long and to suffer
for, as the Poles long and suffer for Poland!"

"We shall some day!" said Nora hopefully. "Mr. Sorell says every nation
gets its turn to fight for its life. I suppose Otto Radowitz has been
talking Poland to you?"

"He talks it--and he lives it," said Connie, with emphasis. "It's
marvellous!--it shames one."

Nora shrugged her shoulders.

"But what can he do--with his poor hand! You