"Well, you have both had time for consideration, and you have time still, for the matter of that. No need to decide yet." "I would rather work through college with a definite aim." A movement of assent answered him. "You know, of course, that Malcolm is ordained to the curacy of St. Peter's." "Yes. Capital for you all having him within reach." Nigel could hardly take his eyes off Ethel. He knew that it was time for him to say good-bye; yet he lingered, craving a few words with her first. Mr. Elvey soon turned to speak to his wife, and Nigel seized the opportunity, moving to Ethel's side. "I must not stay; they will be expecting me at home, and wondering why I don't come," he said. "It's desperately hard to go so soon, but if I don't—" "Yes. Oh, don't wait," she said at once; "we shall see you again very soon." Nigel's face changed. He had not expected this. Was she so indifferent? "I'm afraid I must," he repeated; yet he did not stir. Ethel's presence was like a fascination, holding him to the spot against his will, or rather enchaining his very will, so that for the time nothing else seemed to have weight. "I can't tell you what it is to me to come back again—here," he said softly. "It is like—" "Like old days, isn't it?" she responded gaily. "You always were just one of our boys, you know,—in and out when you liked. We shall expect the same again." "Will you? Don't you think I might come too often?" Poor Nigel! He was in such desperate earnest; while Ethel, through her very delight at the return of her old friend, was brimming over with fun. "I won't venture to say that! Anybody might come too often, perhaps. I'm a desperately busy person, and never have a moment to spare. But of course you'll pay us a polite call now and then?" "Yes," Nigel answered seriously. "And if I'm out, you can leave your card." "Yes." "A month or six weeks later somebody is sure to find time to return your call." "Yes," was all Nigel could say. He knew that it was utterly absurd to take this bantering for anything beyond banter; but how could he help it? Then a moment's pause, and Ethel looked at the clock. "Nigel, I don't want to seem unkind," she said; "but, do you know, I really almost think you ought not to stay any longer—if you haven't seen your home-people yet." This finished Nigel off! Ethel wished him to go! Ethel thought him wrong to have come! His face did not fall into a vexed or doleful set, but it grew exceedingly grave, and all sparkle was gone. He did not question her judgment. Of course she was right, entirely right; and all along he had known himself to be acting with no great wisdom. Still he did feel acutely that if the meeting with him had been to Ethel what the meeting with Ethel was to him, she could not so cheerfully have proposed to shorten the interview. Could she not? That was the question!