senior at Winchester, was,
perhaps, the man in all Oxford to whom he felt most antipathy.

Mrs. Harding very much regretted that she had not come in a smart Harris
tweed. It would have been a good compromise between the Dashwoods and
the pretty girl with them, and Mrs. Greenleafe Potten with her tweed
skirt and not altogether spotless shirt. But it was too late!

Boreham was quite unconscious of his guests' thoughts, and was busy
plotting how best to give May Dashwood an opportunity of making love to
him. He would have Lady Dashwood and Mrs. Harding on each side of him at
table, giving to Mrs. Potten, Harding and Bingham. Then May Dashwood and
Miss Scott would be wedged in at the sides. But, after lunch, he would
give the men only ten minutes sharp for their coffee, and take off May
Dashwood to look over the house. In this way he would be behaving with
the futile orthodoxy required by our effete social system, and yet give
the opportunity necessary to the female for the successful pursuit of
the male.

Only--and here a sudden spasm went through his frame, as he looked round
on his guests--did he really wish to become a married man? Did he want
to be obliged to be always with one woman, to be obliged to pay calls
with her, dine out with her? Did he want to explain where he was going
when he went by himself, and to give her some notion as to the hour when
he would return, and to leave his address with her if he stayed away for
a night? No! Marriage was a gross imposition on humanity, as his brother
had discovered twice over. The woman in the world who would tempt him
into harness would have to be exquisitely fascinating! But then--and
this was the point--May Dashwood _had_ just that peculiar charm!
Boreham's eyes were now resting on her face. She was sitting on his
left, next Mrs. Harding, and Bingham's black head was bent and he was
saying something to her that made her smile. Boreham wished that he had
put Harding, the married man, next her! Harding was commonplace! Harding
was safe! Look at Harding doing his duty with Mrs. Potten! Useful man,
Harding! But Bingham was a bachelor, and not safe!

And so the luncheon went on, and Boreham talked disconnectedly because
he forgot the thread of his argument in his keenness to hear what May
Dashwood and Bingham were saying to each other. He tried to drag in
Bingham and force him to talk to the table, but his efforts were
fruitless. Bingham merely looked absently and sweetly