XLIII. GEOFFREY CALLS TO BE PAID 416 XLIV. KISMET 428 XLV. LABELLED AND CORDED 438 XLVI. A BYE-TERM MAN 444 XLVII. BESIDE THE CRADLE 454 XLVIII. HAPPINESS 464 XLIX. FROM DINAH’S HAND 475 A GIRTON GIRL CHAPTER I TRIANGULAR FRIENDSHIP ‘The foundations of Newnham and of Girton may be deep,’ observed Gaston Arbuthnot, in his pleasant, level, semi-American voice. ‘The foundations of the Gogmagog Hills are deeper! Girl wranglers may come, girl optimists may go. The heart of woman remains unchanged. And the heart of woman----’ But a plate piled with luscious Guernsey strawberries happening to be placed, by a jaunty Norman waitress, under Gaston’s nose, the generalisation, for the moment, ended abruptly. Guernsey. Imagine that dot of granite washed round by such blue as our western Channel shows in June; imagine carnation-smelling sunshine, a friendly trio of young persons breakfasting, with appetite, on the lime-shaded lawn of Miller’s Sarnian Hotel; imagine the flutter of a muslin dress, the presence of a beautiful girl of two-and-twenty, and the opening scene of this little drama lies before you. I may add that the friendship of the three persons was a paradox, as the reader of the succeeding pages shall be brought to see. ‘The heart of woman tends towards marriage. Well, a picturesque revival of Lady-Jane-Greyism,’ went on Gaston Arbuthnot, as his plate of strawberries subsided, ‘may be safe enough--to the Lady Jane Greys! Especially in an age when women, young or old, are by no means given to losing their heads. But let the Roger Aschams who bear them company look to it! This young person whom you, Geoffrey, propose to coach is probably neither worse nor better than her sisters. The man-hating story I flatly disbelieve. Marjorie Bartrand may or may not go to Girton. She is sure to prove herself a very woman in the end.’ ‘Unfortunately, you flatly disbelieve so many things.’ As she spoke Gaston’s wife transferred a monster strawberry from her own plate to her husband’s. ‘You told me, only yesterday----’ ‘Dinah, my love,’ interrupted Gaston, with good humour, ‘never remind a man who has well dined or well breakfasted of what he said yesterday. In what state were one’s nerves twenty-four hours ago? Was the wind in the east? Had our perennial duns arrived from England? Had our cousin Geoffrey been reading pauper statistics at us? Each or all of these accidents may have engendered scepticism which at this moment is replaced by the childlike faith born of idleness and a fine digestion.’ And Dinah’s strawberry, encrusted by sugar, delicately dipped in Guernsey cream, was placed between Gaston’s white teeth, savoured and swallowed.