It must not be supposed that, because I was so multifariously occupied, I was neglecting my chances in the Schools. I had decided to take as my subject for Finals the group known as Group 65B, which consisted of Geography and Byzantine Architecture, with French as a subsidiary subject. I sat once more at the feet of the great Hoskyns, and was privileged to attend the very first lecture to which he released his considerations on “Whereness examined as such, without reference to spatial conceptions, with special allusion to the recently discovered work of Aristotle on Πουότης.” He followed this up with a course (I have the notes of it still) called “Towards a reconciliation of Teleology with Geography, with some remarks on the Where as a function of the Why.” Alas, it was after my time that he startled the world with his “The Whence as an aspect of the Whither, a point Einstein overlooked.” In fact, he had not yet made his name, but he had one fervent devotee. So enthralled was I by his speculations that I made a suggestion that I should come and take private classes with him at his house: when difficulties arose, I actually consented to come without receiving the usual fee. Never shall I forget the thrill of those evenings! It was something of a pilgrimage that I had taken on myself, for he lived in one of the most fashionable streets of Boar’s Hill, and this was before the funicular railway had been electrified. At the end of our fourth class, however, he proposed marriage, a suggestion which so took me aback that I put him off with the plea (an unusual one, even then) that I must write for my parents’ consent. My mother was very busy at the time, since she was entering her dog for a show, and my father found it impossible to get away. The result was unexpected, but perhaps fortunate, a visit from old Miss Linthorpe! She interviewed Charles Hoskyns for three-quarters of an hour, and came away saying that the man ought to be in Bedlam (a melancholy prophecy of what happened later on). The engagement was broken off, but I promised that I would always be a sister to him, and when he married his typist a few months later, suggested further that I would be a sister-in-law to his wife. My researches in Byzantine architecture were less absorbing; it was a subject more difficult to treat in a theoretical aspect. I went to Church at St. Barnabas’ one Sunday, to collect local colour, but the expedition was not a success. That Church had been one of the earliest to acclaim and to encourage rapprochement with the Greek Orthodox Communion, and I found that, during the week, an enormous screen had been erected in the middle of the Church, completely hiding the Eastern portion of it. The screen, indeed, had doors in it, which were meant (I afterwards learnt) to be thrown open at various points in the service; but unfortunately these doors jammed on this first occasion, and the congregation had to be content without seeing the officiating clergy at all.