“How noble you are!” she whispered, “and I’d rather have my Geoff without a penny!” “You will have your ‘rather,’ then,” the young man returned, laughing, although he fondly returned her caress, “for he hasn’t even a penny that is rightfully his own. But,” he added, drawing himself up resolutely, “that shall not be said of me long—another year, I trust, will find me established in something that need not make me ashamed to take my place among other men.” “Oh, Geoffrey! who is indulging in morbid fancies now?” queried Gladys, chidingly. “I do not mean to do so,” he replied, cheerfully, “but I long to begin to do something for myself and for you, my darling. But I must not keep you here—people will be wondering what has become of the fair valedictorian. There!” as steps were heard approaching the door, “I’ll venture that some one is looking for you now.” It proved to be even so, and Gladys was in great demand during the next few hours. Indeed, Geoffrey saw but comparatively little of her after that one interview, for he was obliged to leave at an early hour in order to reach New Haven that night. There was to be a brilliant reception that evening for the graduating class, and it was quite a disappointment to Gladys that Geoffrey could not be present, but she strove to make the best of it, knowing that they would meet again in a few days; besides Mr. and Mrs. Huntress were to remain to accompany her when she should leave the next day. Everet Mapleson also remained. He had hardly been able to get a word with Gladys all day, and when he found that Geoffrey was obliged to leave, he resolved that he would attend the reception and devote himself to the fair girl whom he was learning every hour to love more devotedly. When he presented himself in the evening before her a slight frown contracted her brow, and for a moment she was tempted to pass on and leave him to himself. But he made that impossible by instantly taking his stand by her side, and devoting himself exclusively to her, and thus it was out of her power to avoid him without being positively rude. “Well, all this will soon end,” she said to herself, with a sigh of resignation, “and for once I may as well surrender myself to the inevitable; after he leaves college we shall probably not meet again, and I should not like to have it on my conscience that I had been rude even to him.” She introduced him to several of her classmates, and tried thus to attract his attention from herself and slip away unobserved; but at her first movement he was at her side. During the latter part of the evening he managed to draw her into the circle of promenaders who were pacing up and down the main hall, to the delicious strains of a fine band, where, after a few turns he led her, almost before she was aware of his intention, to a balcony at one end, and out of the hearing of the crowd within.