"I think it was a grand thing to do--to begin over again." said Mona. "You will make a magnificent doctor when you do take your degree, and none of those past years will be lost. You will be a famous professor yourself some day. How far have you got?" "I passed the Matriculation almost immediately, and the Preliminary Scientific six months after. In July, I go in for my Intermediate, and two years later comes my Final. Once the Intermediate is over, a load will be taken off my mind. It is all grist that comes to one's mill after that, but it requires a little resolution to plod along side by side with mere schoolboys, as most of the students are." "It must be an excellent thing for the schoolboys." She was wishing with all her heart that she could tell him her story in return for his. Why had she made that absurd promise to Rachel? And what would Rachel think if she claimed permission to make an exception in Dr Dudley's favour? It was all too ridiculous, and when she began to think of it, she was inclined to wonder whether she really was the Mona Maclean who had studied medicine in London. "Why, it is after five," said Dudley suddenly, looking at his watch. Mona sprang to her feet, and then remembered with relief that, as Rachel was going out to tea, she need not be punctual. "But I ought to have been in time to prevent her wearing the scarlet cap," she thought with a pang of self-reproach. "Shall you go on with your sketch to-morrow?" asked Dudley, as they walked up to the road. "To-morrow? No; my cousin is going to take me to St Rules." "I thought Miss Simpson was your aunt?" "No, she is my father's cousin--one of the very few relatives I have." Dudley was relieved, he scarcely knew why. "I might have known my old lady was not likely to know much about any one in the village," he thought. "Have you never been to St Rules?" he said aloud. "That is a treat in store. Almost every stone in it has a history. But I have an appointment now with my aunt in Kirkstoun--I hate saying good-bye, don't you?" "I do." "I mean quite apart from the parting involved." "Oh, quite!" He looked at her with curious eagerness, and then held out his hand. Apparently he had no objection to that. "Well, so long!" "_Sans adieu!_" Mona sighed as she re-entered the dreary little sitting-room. However freely she might let the breezes of heaven blow through the house in Rachel's absence, the rooms seemed to be as musty as ever five minutes after the windows had been shut. The autumn evenings were growing chilly, but the white curtains, by the laws of the Medes and Persians, had to remain on duty a little longer; and great as was Mona's partiality for a good fire, the thermometer must have registered a very low figure indeed before she could have taken refuge in Sally's kitchen--at any other time than on Saturday afternoon, immediately after the weekly cleaning. Tea was on the table. It had stood there since five o'clock.