erently, moving down
the broad grass-path which divided the garden into two equal portions.

'But I am leaving Oxford, at any rate for a year,' he said quietly. 'I
am going to London.'

Her delicate eyebrows went up. 'To London?' Then, in a tone of mock
meekness and sympathy: 'How you will dislike it!'

'Dislike It-why?'

'Oh! Because--' she hesitated, and then laughed her daring girlish
laugh, 'because there are so many stupid people in London; the clever
people are not all picked out like prize apples, as I suppose they are
in Oxford.'

'At Oxford?' repeated Langham, with a kind of groan. At Oxford? You
imagine that Oxford is inhabited only by clever people?'

'I can only judge by what I see,' she said demurely. 'Every Oxford man
always behaves as if he were the cream of the universe. Oh! I don't mean
to be rude,' she cried, losing for a moment her defiant control over
herself, as though afraid of having gone too far. 'I am not the least
disrespectful, really. When you and Robert talk, Catherine and I feel
quite as humble as we ought.'

The words wore hardly out before she could have bitten the tongue that
spoke them. He had made her feel her indiscretions of Sunday night as
she deserved to feel them, and now after three minutes' conversation she
was on the verge of fresh ones. Would she never grow up, never behave
like other girls? That word _humble!_ It seemed to burn her memory.

Before he could possibly answer she barred the way by a question as
short and dry as possible,--

What are you going to London for?'

'For many reasons,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'I have told no
one yet--not even Elsmere. And indeed I go back to my rooms for a while
from here. But as soon as Term begins, I become a Londoner.'

They had reached the gate at the bottom of the garden, and were leaning
against it. She was disturbed, conscious, lightly flushed. It struck her
as another _gaucherie_ on her part that she should have questioned him
as to his plans. What did his life matter to her?

He was looking away from her, studying the half-ruined, degraded Manor
House spread out below them. Then suddenly he turned,--

If I could imagine for a moment it would interest you to hear my reasons
for leaving Oxford, I could not flatter myself you would see any sense
in them. I _know_ that Robert will think them moonshine; nay, more, that
they will give him pain.'

He smiled sadly. The tone of gentleness, the sudden breach in