pages of one of Mr. Norris's novels. Should she say to the young man
(and after all he was just the same age as her own boy): "If you want to
smoke, don't mind me"? No: he seemed absolutely indifferent to her
presence... she did not wish to interrupt.

But since, even at her age, she noted his indifference, presumably he
was in some way or other--to her at least--nice, handsome, interesting,
distinguished, well built, like her own boy? One must do the best one
can with her report. Anyhow, this was Jacob Flanders, aged nineteen. It
is no use trying to sum people up. One must follow hints, not exactly
what is said, nor yet entirely what is done--for instance, when the
train drew into the station, Mr. Flanders burst open the door, and put
the lady's dressing-case out for her, saying, or rather mumbling: "Let
me" very shyly; indeed he was rather clumsy about it.

"Who..." said the lady, meeting her son; but as there was a great crowd
on the platform and Jacob had already gone, she did not finish her
sentence. As this was Cambridge, as she was staying there for the week-
end, as she saw nothing but young men all day long, in streets and round
tables, this sight of her fellow-traveller was completely lost in her
mind, as the crooked pin dropped by a child into the wishing-well twirls
in the water and disappears for ever.

They say the sky is the same everywhere. Travellers, the shipwrecked,
exiles, and the dying draw comfort from the thought, and no doubt if you
are of a mystical tendency, consolation, and even explanation, shower
down from the unbroken surface. But above Cambridge--anyhow above the
roof of King's College Chapel--there is a difference. Out at sea a great
city will cast a brightness into the night. Is it fanciful to suppose
the sky, washed into the crevices of King's College Chapel, lighter,