e end of term from the University
Press than Connie in her quarterly dividends.

But Connie knew very well by this time that Nora was not wholly absorbed
in Middle English. Often, as they emerged from the Bodleian to go home
to lunch, they would come across Sorell hurrying along the Broad, his
master's gown floating behind him. And he would turn his fine ascetic
face towards them, and wave his hand to them from the other side of the
street. And Connie would flash a look at Nora,--soft, quick,
malicious--of which Nora was well aware.

But Connie rarely said a word. She was handling the situation indeed
with great discretion; though with an impetuous will. She herself had
withdrawn from the Greek lessons, on the plea that she was attending
some English history lectures; that she must really find out who fought
the battle of Hastings; and was too lazy to do anything else. Sometimes
she would linger in the schoolroom till Sorell arrived, and then he
would look at her wistfully, when she prepared to depart, as though to
say--"Was this what I bargained for?"

But she always laughed and went. And presently as she crossed the hall
again, and heard animated voices in the schoolroom, her brown eyes would
show a merry satisfaction.

Meanwhile Nora was growing thinner and handsomer day by day. She was
shedding awkwardness without any loss of that subacid sincerity that was
her charm. Connie, as much as she dared, took her dressing in hand. She
was never allowed to give a thing; but Annette's fingers were quick and
clever, and Nora's Spartan garb was sometimes transformed by them under
the orders of a coaxing or audacious Constance. The mere lifting of the
load of care had let the young plant shoot. So that many persons passing
Ewen Hooper's second daughter in the street would turn round now to look
at her in surprise. Was that really the stout, podgy schoolgirl, who had
already, by virtue of her strong personality, made a certain impression
in the university town? People had been vaguely sorry for her; or
vaguely thought of her as plain but good. Alice of course was pretty;
Nora had the virtues. And now here she was, bursting into good looks
more positive than her sister's.

The girl's heart indeed was young at last, for the neighbourhood of
Connie was infectious. The fairy-godmothering of that young woman was
going finely. It was the secret hope at the centre of her own life which
was playing like captured sunshine upon all t