Mary, looking down and
biting her lip. Tom was ready to bite his tongue off, but there
was nothing now but to go through with it.

"You make everybody that comes near you think that you are deeply
interested in them and their doings. Poor Grey believes that you
are as mad as he is about rituals and rubrics. And the boating
men declare that you would sooner see a race than go to the best
ball in the world. And you listened to the Dean's stale old
stories about his schools, and went into raptures in the Bodleian
about pictures and art with that follow of All Souls'. Even our
old butler and the cook--"

Here Mary, despite her vexation, after a severe struggle to
control it, burst into a laugh, which made Tom pause.

"Now you can't say that I am not really fond of jellies," she
said.

"And you can't say that I have said anything so very
disagreeable."

"Oh, but you have, though."

"At any rate I have made you laugh."

"But you didn't mean to do it. Now, go on."

"I have nothing more to say. You see my meaning, or you never
will."

"If you have nothing more to say, you should not have said so
much," said Mary. "You wouldn't have me rude to all the people I
meet, and I can't help it if the cook thinks I am a glutton."

"But you could help letting Grey think that you should like to go
and see his night schools."

"But I should like to see them of all things."

"And I suppose you would like to go through the manuscripts in
the Bodleian with the Dean. I heard you talking to him as if it
was the dearest wish of your heart, and making a half engagement
to go with him this afternoon, when, you know that you are tired
to death of him, and so full of other engagements that you don't
know where to turn."

Mary began to bite her lips again. She felt half inclined to cry,
and half inclined to get up and box his ears. However she did
neither, but looked up after a moment or two and said--

"Well, have you any more unkind words to say?"

"Unkind, Mary?"

"Yes, they _are_ unkind. How can I enjoy anything now when I
shall know you are watching me, and thinking all sorts of harm of
everything I say and do? However, it doesn't much matter, for we
go to-morrow morning."

"But you will give me credit at least for meaning you well."

"I think you are very jealous and suspicious."

"You don't know how you pain me when you say that."

"But I must say what I think."

Mary set her little mouth, and looked down, and beg