He used generally to give a half-contemptuous nod as he passed
the little group, uncovering his head for the shortest possible
period consistent with civility, and making his way to the far
end of the boat. One time as he passed them Aldith was drooping
her lashes and using her eyes with great effect, and Meg was almost
positive she heard him mutter under his breath, "Silly young fools!"
He used to smoke at his end of the boat--cigars at the beginning
of term and a short, black, villainous-looking pipe at the end--
and Meg used secretly to think how manly he looked, and to sigh
profoundly.

For I may as well tell you now as later what this foolish little
thing had done after a few months' course of Aldith and novels.
She had fallen in love as nearly as it is possible for sweet sixteen
to do; and it was with Alan, who had no good looks nor pleasant
manners--not Andrew, who had speaking eyes, and curls that "made
his forehead like the rising sun"; not Andrew, who gave her tender
glances and conversation peppermints that said "My heart is thine,"
but Alan, who took no notice whatever of her beyond an occasional
half-scornful bow.

Poor little Meg! She was very miserable in these days, and yet it
was a kind of exquisite misery that she hugged to her to keep it
warm. No one guessed her secret. She would have died rather than
allow even Aldith to get a suspicion of it, and accepted Andrew's
notes and smiles as if there was nothing more she wanted. But she
grew a trifle thin and large-eyed, and used to make copious notes
in her diary every night, and to write a truly appalling quantity
of verses, in which "heart" and "part," "grieve" and "leave,"