ily enlightened: and there could be neither peace nor rest for him
till he had confirmation or denial from Elsie's lips.

Six months earlier he had pleaded his cause with such halting eloquence
as he could command; and the girl's refusal had been qualified by a
confession that at least she preferred him to any other man of her
acquaintance. On the strength of this admission the boy had simply stood
aside and waited: hoping, as only the young can hope, because the fervour
of their desire renders the possibility of non-fulfilment unthinkable.
Then Maurice had entered the field, carrying all before him, with the
inimitable assurance that was his; and by now Kenneth had reached the
agony-point in a painful, if educative experience. Standing aside was no
longer endurable. By some means he must secure Elsie, if only for ten
minutes, and discover the truth.

"And a man need only look into her eyes for that," he decided, with a
throb of troubled anticipation.

His opportunity came on the third day of the 'week.' The great football
match between East and West was progressing vigorously to the tune of
shouts and cheers. Maurice, who had small taste for sport, had gone
sketching with his sister at her urgent request; and as Elsie settled
herself, with a book, on a slope of hot pine-needles, she was surprised
and startled to see Kenneth Malcolm approaching her.

"May I sit here for a little?" he asked. "I have hardly had two words
with you since you came back from Chumba. I suppose you enjoyed it all
tremendously?"

"Oh yes. It was delightful. Do sit down."

The restraint of his manner was infectious, as restraint is apt to be;
and she was hampered by a prescience of things to come.

"I was awfully keen to go too," he said, as he obeyed her. "But perhaps
it's just as well that I didn't get the chance, judging from . . . from
what I hear."

"You shouldn't judge from what you hear," she murmured.

"Shouldn't I? But unluckily it fits in with . . . what I see. Miss
Mayhew . . ." he pressed forward, his eyes searching her face, devout
worship in the sincere blue depths of them. "Will you be angry with me,
if I ask you a straight question?"

She shook her head.

"And will you give me a straight answer?"

"If I can."

"Is it true that you are likely to . . . marry Maurice?"

"Not that I know of." He took a great breath, like a condemned man who
hears his reprieve.

"Then, may I still believe . . . what you