"Oh, yes--I forgot," he said. "There was a door--that time, that wasn't blocked. And the other boy jumped through the window. . . . What possible haven was there left," he asked, "for the panic-stricken little [192] room-mate except in my arms? She smelt of violets, I remember," he mused, "and her throat was very white. Nobody ever knew about the presence of the other boy. And only the four of us knew about Cly--'Miss Merriwayne' I would say. But if Miss Merriwayne had come back," he quickened ever so slightly, "and acknowledged frankly that she, also, had been present, the school authorities, I suppose, would hardly have judged the unintentional tete-a-tete as harshly--as they did. . . . Even at the eleventh hour, if she had been willing to come back and acknowledge it or at the twelfth for the matter of that--or even at one o'clock or two, while the outraged Powers harangued on the case . . . . But by three o'clock, that timorous little room-mate, seeing no other exit, slashed a door through her little white throat and fled away. "So you see, Daphne," he smiled, "that even across a mistake like _that_----" "You mean," blanched Daphne, "that----" Like a man straining very slightly toward more air the new Dean's throat muscles lifted. [193] On Kaire's face alone the grin remained half a grin, anyway. "Sailed away from a sinking wreck With a--something--something--on her deck," he quoted diabolically. "_Hush_!" warned Jaffrey Bretton. "I had my own life to consider!" flared Claudia Merriwayne. "You had your own life to consider," bowed Jaffrey Bretton. "My people were very poor!" flared Claudia Merriwayne. "They had made great sacrifices to educate me! Already, even then, my chances of future academic distinction were the sole topics in my home!" "Already," acquiesced Jaffrey Bretton, "your chances of future academic distinction were the sole topics in your home! . . . "So you see, Daphne," he turned and readdressed his little girl suddenly, "so you see that, even across a mistake like _that_, people may yet achieve real honors and much usefulness!" Like a man a little bit weary, his arms [194] dropped down to his sides again, but his figure still blocked the doorway. "That is all, Clytie," he bowed. "And you may rest assured, of course, that neither Daphne nor Mr. Kaire nor I will ever repeat the little anecdote which I have just quoted--unless Daphne herself shall contend that Richard Wiltoner should know. . . . Mr. Burnarde, of course, needs no guarantees, having already proved with fearless courtesy that your interests are his." With frank cordiality he swung about and held out his hand to Burnarde.