were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless—­no, not meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the receding temples.  The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes—­an ideality that touched the confines of frenzy.  The shoulders were square and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics.

“And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see you here?  I am so glad to see you.”

These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with the sacerdotal elegance of this young man.  Then he added quickly, as if to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit—­

“But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have seen our college.  And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist.”

“Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on a day like this.  We have had very wet weather lately.”

“No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the harvest.  The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I suppose, everything was over at least two months ago.  Still even there the farmers have been losing money for some time back.  I have had to make some very heavy reductions.  Pearson declared he could not possibly continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load.  This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth.  I want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you’ll stay and dine?  And I’ll show you over the college:  you have never been here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you for nearly five years.”

“It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at Thornby Place, and that was three years ago.”

“Three years!  It sounds very shocking, doesn’t it? to have a beautiful place in Sussex and not to live there:  to prefer an ugly red-brick college—­Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression.  When she is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and I must say she is right,—­the architecture here is appallingly ugly; and I don’t think anything could be done to improve it, do you?”

“I can’t say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don’t in the least admire, that you lived here.”