breeding, somewhat pudgy and with a languishing air. She liked to
have boys snuggle down by her; and so Thyrsis spent the whole of one
evening, sitting in a summer-house with an arm about her waist,
dissolved in a sort of moon-calf sentimentalism. And then he passed
the rest of the night wandering about in the forest cursing himself,
with tears of shame and vexation in his eyes.

He was so ignorant about these matters that he did not even know if
the changes that had taken place in him were normal, or whether they
were doing him harm. He made up his mind that he must have advice;
as it was unthinkable that he should speak about such shameful
things with any grown person, he bethought himself of a classmate in
college who was an earnest and sober man. This friend, much older
than Thyrsis, was the son of an evangelical clergyman, and was
headed for the ministry himself. His name was Warner, and Thyrsis
had helped him in arranging for some religious meetings at the
college. Warner had been shocked by his theological irregularities;
but they were still friends, and now Thyrsis sought a chance to
exchange confidences with him.

The opportunity came while they were strolling down an avenue near
the college, and a woman passed them, a woman with bold and hard
features, and obviously-painted cheeks. She smiled at a group of
students just ahead, and one of them turned and walked off arm in
arm with her.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Warner. "Did you see that?"

"Yes," said Thyrsis. "Who is she?"