, and it never occurred to her to ask whether
he felt all that he himself could have wished as such. He was very fond
of Milly and quite content with her, but not perfectly content with
himself. He supposed he must at bottom be one of those ordinary and
rather contemptible men who care more for the excitement of the chase
than for the object of it. But he felt sure he was really a very lucky
fellow, and determined not to give way to the self-analysis which is
always said to be the worst enemy of happiness.

Miss Flaxman had been the only woman in for Greats, and as a favor she
was taken first in _viva voce_. The questions were directed to probing
her actual knowledge in places where she had made one or two amazing
blunders. But she emerged triumphant, and went in good spirits to
Clewes, Aunt Beatrice's country home in the North, whither Ian Stewart
shortly followed her. Beyond the fact that she wore perforce and with
shame, not having money to buy others, frocks which Lady Thomson
disapproved, she was once more the adoring niece to whom her aunt was
accustomed. And Lady Thomson liked Ian. She never expected men to share
her fads.

In due time came the announcement of the First, bringing almost as many
congratulatory letters as the engagement. And on August 2d Milly sailed
for Australia, where she was to spend two or three months with her
family.

In October the newspapers announced that the marriage of Miss Mildred
Beatrice Flaxman, eldest daughter of the Dean of Stirling, South
Australia, with Mr. Ian Stewart, Fellow of Durham College, Oxford, would
take place at Oxford in the second week in December.

CHAPTER VIII

"Madame dort toujours!" The dark-eyed, cherry cheeked, white-capped
chamber-maid of the Hotel du Chalet made the statement to the manager,
who occupied a glass case in the hall. "She must have been very tired
yesterday, pauvre petite!"

The manager answered phlegmatically in French with a German accent:

"So much the better if she sleeps. She does not eat. When the gentleman
went out he wanted sanveeches to put in his pocket. One does not want
sanveeches when one sleeps."

"All the same, I wish she would wake up. It's so odd to see her sleeping
like that," returned the cherry-cheeked one; and passed about her
duties.

The _dejeuner_ was over, and those guests who had not already gone out
for the day, were tramping about the bare, wooden passages and
staircase, putting on knitted gloves a