“How has he been behaving lately?” said Constance drily, turning to Lord Meyrick, who stood grinning.

“Just as usual!  He’s generally mad.  Don’t depend on him for anything.  But I hope you’ll let me do anything I can for you!  I should be only too happy.”

The girl perceived the eager admiration with which the young fellow was regarding her, and her face relaxed.

“Thank you very much.  Of course I know all about Mr. Falloden!  At Cannes, we made a league to keep him in order.”

Falloden protested vehemently that he had been a persecuted victim at Cannes; the butt of Lady Connie and all her friends.

Constance, however, cut the speech short by a careless nod and good-bye, beckoned to Annette and was moving away, when he placed himself before her.

“But I hope we shall meet this very night—­shan’t we?—­at the Vice-Chancellor’s party?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, but of course you will be there!  The Hoopers are quite sure to bring you.  It’s at St. Hubert’s.  Some old swell is coming down.  The gardens are terribly romantic—­and there’ll be a moon.  One can get away from all the stuffy people.  Do come!”

He gave her a daring look.

“Good-bye,” said Constance again, with a slight decided gesture, which made him move out of her way.

In a few moments, she and her maid were lost to sight on the crowded pavement.

Falloden threw back his head and laughed, as he and Lord Meyrick pursued the opposite direction.  But he said nothing.  Meyrick, his junior by two years, who was now his most intimate friend in the Varsity, ventured at last on the remark—­

“Very good-looking!  But she was certainly not very civil to you, Duggy!”

Falloden flushed hotly.

“You think she dislikes me?  I’ll bet you anything you please she’ll be at the party to-night.”

* * * * *

Constance and her maid hurried home along the Broad.  The girl perceived little or nothing on the way; but her face was crossed by a multitude of expressions, which meant a very active brain.  Perhaps sarcasm or scorn prevailed, yet mingled sometimes with distress or perplexity.

The sight of the low gabled front of Medburn.  House recalled her thoughts.  She remembered her purchases and Nora’s disapproving eyes.  It would be better to go and beard her uncle at once.  But just as she approached the house, she became aware of a slenderly built man in flannels coming out of the gates of St. Cyprian’s, the college of which the gate and outer court stood next door to the Hoopers.

He saw her, stopped with a start of pleasure, and came eagerly towards her.

“Lady Constance!  Where have you sprung from?  Oh, I know—­you are with the Hoopers!  Have you been here long?”