the hall. She straightened her shoulders impatiently.

"My father and mother knew him in Rome, Aunt Ellen. He used to come to
our apartment. Is Uncle Ewen in the study? I want to speak to him."

She knocked and went in. Standing with her back to the door she said
abruptly--

"I hope you won't mind, Uncle Ewen, but I've been buying a few things we
want, for my room and Annette's. When I go, of course they can be turned
out. But may I tell the shop now to send them in?"

The Reader turned in some embarrassment, his spectacles on his nose.

"My dear girl, anything to make you comfortable! But I wish you had
consulted me. Of course, we would have got anything you really wanted."

"Oh, that would have been dreadfully unfair!" laughed Constance. "It's
my fault, you see. I've got far too many dresses. One seemed not to be
able to do without them at Cannes."

"Well, you won't want so many here," said Dr. Ewen cheerfully, as he
rose from his table crowded with books. "We're all pretty simple at
Oxford. We ought to be of course--even our guests. It's a place of
training." He dropped a Greek word absently, putting away his papers the
while, and thinking of the subject with which he had just been busy.
Constance opened the door again to make her escape, but the sound
recalled Dr. Ewen's thoughts.

"My dear--has your aunt asked you? We hope you'll come with us to the