"This sun makes one almost sleepy," she said calmly, "and I sat up quite late last night, too--playing picquet with your uncle. He is a poor sleeper." "Indeed. I am not acquainted with his habits," Antony responded. "We will look at the buildings now, I think, if you are sufficiently rested." A fell purpose had suddenly found itself in his humiliated breast. This insolent young puss should have cause indeed for drowsiness. She sprang instantly to her feet with a quick and pleasing muscular co-ordination, which, again, was not lost upon Antony. She wore a white flannel costume dotted with a dull blue--the blue of Canton china. Of this colour, too, was the silk stocking that flashed down the steps above her low-cut shoes. A ludicrous and daring colour for a brunette--until you encountered her eyes. "I am quite ready," she said demurely, and Antony started briskly down the street. "On the right," he began didactically, "you will see Wadsworth Hall, the building of applied sciences. It was presented by the two sons of Mr. Ezra Bement Wadsworth in memory of their father, a prominent graduate. It cost three hundred thousand dollars and is one of the most completely equipped buildings of its kind in the country, I believe." "How interesting!" she murmured. "Yes," Antony agreed, "it _is_ interesting." "To what are the sciences applied?" she inquired placidly. "To--er, to--really, I have never gone into it so far as that," Antony returned, biting his lip, "I am not interested in science myself. But that is what it is generally called: it is on a bronze tablet on the corner. It is probably only an expression." "Ah, yes, probably," she assented. "Beyond it and a shade to the left you will see," he continued, with a wave of his stick, "Mansfield Hall. It is a dormitory, occupied by sophomores." "And who presented that?" his companion inquired, gazing respectfully at the end of his stick. "I do not know," he informed her briefly. "Oh, you do not know," she repeated in her low voice. Something in the falling inflection caused her guide to wriggle uneasily. "Nobody knows," he added, rashly. "I should think nobody would want to, it is so hideous." "To be sure," she said. "And sophomores live there. Are you perhaps a sophomore, Mr. Tony?" "I?" Antony exclaimed; then in level tones, "I am a senior." "Really!" she murmured. "I suppose that means that you are one of the older pupils, then? In the first class?" "It does," he assented grimly, adding as a cutting afterthought, "a sophomore, I suppose, would be beneath your notice?" She smiled sweetly. "Oh, dear me, no!" she assurred him, "not in the least--it is all the same to me, you see, Mr. Tony!" Antony should have realised by this time the folly of any further tilting, but he did not. "Your interest naturally turns, then, to men of my uncle's age?" he inquired caustically. She considered this with a pretty seriousness.