os!"

"But I don't mean----" began Boreham. "I haven't put it--you don't take
my words quite correctly."

May was already walking on into the open archway that led to the
cathedral. Before them stood the great western doors, and she saw them
and stopped. Boreham wished to goodness that he had waited till they
were in the cathedral before he had made his quotation. Through the open
doors of that ancient building he could hear somebody playing the organ.
That would have been the proper emotional accompaniment for those
immortal lines of Shakespeare. He pictured a corner of the Latin chapel
and an obscure tender light. Why had he begun to talk in the glare of a
public thoroughfare?

"Shall we go inside?" he asked urgently. "One can't talk here."

But May turned to go back. "I should like to see the cathedral some
other time," she said. "I must thank you very much for having shown me
over the College--and--explained everything."

"Yes; but----" stammered Boreham. "We can get into the cathedral."

She was actually beginning to hold out her hand as if to say Good-bye.

"Not now," she said; and before he had time to argue further, Bingham
came suddenly upon them from somewhere, and expressed so much surprise
at seeing them that it was evident that he had been on the watch. He had
disposed of his purchases and was a free man. He had actually pounced
upon them like a bird of prey--and stealthily too. It was a mean trick
to have played.

"Are you coming out or going in?" asked Bingham.

"Neither," said May, turning to him as if she was glad of his approach.

"You've seen it before?" said Bingham.

"No, not yet," said May.

"It's as nice a place as you could find anywhere," said Bingham, calmly,
"for doing a bit of Joss."

Boreham's brain surged with indignation. This man's intrusion at such a
moment was insupportable. Yes, and he had got rid of his miserable
table-cloth and shoes, probably taken them to Harding's house, and was
going to tea there too. Not only this, but here he was talking in his
jesting way, exactly in the same soft drawling voice in which he reeled
off Latin quotations, and so it went down--yes, went down when it ought
to have given offence. May ought to have been offended. She didn't look
offended!

"You forget," said Boreham, looking through his eyeglass at Bingham and
frowning, "that Mrs. Dashwood is, what is called a Churchwoman."

"I'm a Churchman myself," said the imperturbable Don. "To