brown curls. The face was long, yet not narrow; the cheek-bones rather
high, the chin conspicuous. The eyes--very dark and heavily lidded--were
set forward under strongly marked eyebrows; and both they, the straight
nose with its close nostrils, and the red mouth, seemed to be drawn in
firm yet subtle strokes on the sunburnt skin, as certain Dutch and
Italian painters define the features of their sitters in a containing
outline as delicate as it is unfaltering. The aspect of this striking
person was that of a young king of men, careless, audacious,
good-humoured; and Constance Bledlow's expression, as she held out her
hand to him, betrayed, much against her will, that she was not
indifferent to the sight of him.

"Well met, indeed!" said the young man, the gaiety in his look, a gaiety
full of meaning, measuring itself against the momentary confusion in
hers. "I have been hoping to hear of you--for a long time!--Lady
Constance. Are you with the--the Hoopers--is it?"

"I am staying with my uncle and aunt. I only arrived yesterday." The
girl's manner had become, in a few seconds, little less than repellent.

"Well, Oxford's lively. You'll find lots going on. The Eights begin the
day after to-morrow, and I've got my people coming up. I hope you'll let
Mrs. Hooper bring you to tea to meet them? Oh, by the way, do you know
Meyrick? I think you must have met him." He turned to his companion, a
fair-haired giant, evidently his junior. "Lord Meyrick--Lady Constance
Bledlow. Will you come, Lady Connie?"

"I don't know what my aunt's engagements are," said Constance stiffly.

The trio had withdrawn into the shade of a wide doorway belonging to an