the approach of night. It was going
safely. The pilot was only learning, playing with air, overcoming it
with youthful keenness and light-heartedness. They could see his little
solitary figure sitting at the helm. Later on he would play no more; the
air would be full of glory, and horror--over in France.

The Warden sighed.

When they reached the Lodgings they went into the gloom of the dark
panelled hall. The portraits on the walls glowered at them. The Warden
put up the lights and looked at the table for letters, as if he expected
something. There was a wire for him; more business, but not unexpected.

"I have to go to Town again," he said. "A meeting and other education
business."

"Ah!" said Lady Dashwood. She caught at the idea, and her eyes followed
the figure of May Dashwood walking upstairs. When May turned out of
sight she said: "Do you mean now?"

"No, to-morrow early," he said. "And I shall be back on Saturday."

Lady Dashwood seated herself on a couch; her letters were in her hand,
but she did not open them. Her eyes were fixed on her brother.

"Can you manage somehow so that I can speak to Gwendolen alone?" he
asked. "I am dining in Hall, but I shall be back by half-past nine."

Lady Dashwood felt her cheeks tingle. "Yes, I will manage it, if it is
inevitable." She dwelt lingeringly upon the word "inevitable."

"Thank you," said the Warden, and he turned and walked slowly upstairs.
Very heavily he walked, so Lady Dashwood thought, as she sat listening
to his footsteps. Of course it was inevitable. If vows are forgotten,
promises are broken, there is an end to "honour," to "progress," to
everything worth living for!

At the drawing-room he paused; the door was wide open, and he could see
May Dashwood standing near one of the windows pulling her gloves off.
She turned.

"I have to be in town early to-morrow and shall not return till the
following day, Saturday," he said, coming up slowly to where she was
standing.

She glanced up at him.

"This is the second time I have had to go away since you came, but it is
a time when so much has to be considered and discussed, matters relating
to the future of education, and of the universities, and with the future
of Oxford. Things have suddenly changed; it is a new world that we live
in to-day, a new world." Then he added bitterly, "Such as was the morrow
of the Crucifixion."

He glanced away from her and rested his eyes on the window. The curtains
h