would perhaps have elicited from him a free confession. Gratitude
and admiration would have made him capable of such frankness. But in
the face of this newspaper-reading woman (yes, he had unaccountably
felt it jar upon him that a lady should be reading a newspaper),
under her matronly smile, he could do no more than plump out his
'quite sure'. To Lady Whitelaw it sounded altogether too curt; she
was conscious of her position as patroness, and had in fact thought
it likely that the young man would be disposed to gratify her
curiosity in some measure.

'I can only say that I am sorry to hear it,' fell from her tightened
lips, after a moment's pause.

Instantly Godwin's pride expelled the softer emotion. He pressed
hard with his feet upon the floor, every nerve in his body tense
with that distressing passion peculiar to the shyly arrogant. Regard
him, and you had imagined he was submitting to rebuke for an offence
he could not deny.

Lady Whitelaw waited. A minute, almost, and Peak gave no sign of
opening his mouth.

'It is certainly much to be regretted,' she said at length, coolly.
'Of course, I don't know what prospects you may have in London, but,
if you had remained at the College, something advantageous would no
doubt have offered before long.'

There went small tact to the wording of this admonition. Impossible
for Lady Whitelaw to understand the complexities of a character such
as Godwin's, even had she enjoyed opportunities of studying it; but