He said very little more, ill at ease, a feeling that also seemed to have gained possession of her. Miss Raymond and Miss Woostelle came up, and he found himself restored to the rôle of a hero, a little piqued at Miss Story's different attitude, always aware of her movements, hearing her low voice through all the chatter of the room. He went home very thoughtful, keeping out of the laughing discussion that went on, watching from the corner of his eye Hunter, and wondering with a little unexplained resentment just how well he knew the Storys. CHAPTER XIII With Stover's return after the Christmas vacation the full significance of the society dominion burst over him. The night that the hold-offs were to be given, there was a little joking at the club table, but it was only lip-deep. The crisis was too vital. Chris Schley and Troutman, who were none too confident, were plainly nervous. Stover and McCarthy walked home directly to their rooms, and took up the next day's lessons as a convenient method of killing time. "You're not worrying?" said Stover suddenly. McCarthy put down the penitential book, and, rising, stretched himself, nervously resorting to his pipe. "Not for a hold-off--no. That ought to be all right." "And afterward?" "Don't speak about it." "Rats! You'll be pledged about the eighth or tenth." "What time is it?" said McCarthy shortly. "Five minutes more." This time each took up his book in order to be found in an inconsequential attitude, outwardly indifferent, as all Anglo-Saxons should be. From without, the hour rang its dull, leaden, measured tones. Almost immediately a knock sounded on the door, and Le Baron appeared, hurried, businesslike, mysterious, saying: "Stover, want to see you in the other room a moment." Dink retired with him into the bedroom, and received his hold-off in a few matter-of-fact sentences. A second after, Le Baron was out of the door, rushing down the steps. "Your turn next," said Stover, with a wave of his hand to McCarthy. "Yes." The sound of hurrying feet and the shudder of hastily banged doors filled the house. "My, they're having a busy time of it," said Stover. "Yes." Ten minutes passed. McCarthy, staring at his page, mechanically took up the dictionary, hiding the fear that started up. Stover rose, going to the window. "They're running around Pierson Hall like a lot of ants," he said, drumming against the window. "How far's this advance go?" said McCarthy in a matter-of-fact tone. "End of page 152," said Stover. He came back frowning, glancing at the clock. It was seventeen minutes after the hour. All at once, outside, came a clatter of feet, and the door opened on Waring, out of breath and flustered. "McCarthy, like to see you a moment." Stover returned to the window, gazing out. Presently behind his back he heard the two return, the door bang, and McCarthy's voice saying: "It's all right, Dink." "All right?" he said. "Yes." "Glad of it."