She chattered eagerly, smiling at Betty Callender, and then at the D'Arcy girls, and then at Mrs. Bentinck-Major. She supposed that they were all talking about her. Well, let them. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary. She did not notice her mother's silence. But she _had_ noticed, before they left the house, how ill her mother was looking. A very bad night--another of her dreadful headaches. Her father had not come in to breakfast at all. Everything had been wrong at home since that day when Falk had been sent down from Oxford. She longed to put her arms around her father's neck and hug him. Behind her own happiness, ever since the night of the Ball, there had been a longing, an aching urgent longing to pet him, comfort him, make love to him. And she would, too--as soon as all these festivities were over. And then suddenly there were Johnny and his mother and his sisters walking towards the West door! What a situation! And then there was Johnny breaking away from his own family and hurrying towards them, lifting his hat, smiling! How splendid he looked and how happy! And how happy she also was looking had she only known it! "Good morning, Mrs. Brandon." Mrs. Brandon didn't appear to remember him at all. Then suddenly, as though she had picked her conscience out of her pocket: "Oh, good morning, Lord St. Leath." Joan, out of the corner, saw Boadicea, her head with its absurd bonnet high, striding indignantly ahead. "What lovely weather, is it not?" "Yes, aren't we lucky? Good morning, Joan." "Good morning." "Isn't it a lovely day?" "Oh, yes, it is." "Are you going to see the Torchlight Procession to-night?" "They come through the Precincts, you know." "Of course they do. We're going to have five bonfires all around us. Mother's afraid they'll set the Castle on fire." They both laughed--much too happy to know what they were laughing at. Mrs. Sampson joined them. Johnny and Joan walked ahead. Only two steps and they would be in the Cathedral. "Did you get my letter?" "Yes." "I love you, I love you, I love you." This in a hoarse whisper. "Johnny--you mustn't--you know--we can't--you know I oughtn't----" They passed through into the Cathedral. Mrs. Bentinck-Major came with Miss Ronder, slowly, across the grass. It was not necessary for them to hurry because they knew that their seats were reserved for them. Mrs. Bentinck-Major thought Miss Ronder "queer" because of the clever things that she said and of the odd fashion in which she always dressed. To say anything clever was, with Mrs. Bentinck-Major, at once to be classed as "queer." "It _is_ hot!" Miss Ronder, thin and piky above her stiff white collar, looked immaculately cool. "A lovely day," she said, sniffing the colour and the warmth, and loving it.