Mrs. Comber gave a great sigh and looked a little more cheerful. Then, after a pause, she began again, but a little doubtfully: “You know, Isabel dear, there's something else. I don't want to frighten you, but Mrs. Dormer noticed it as well, and I know it's silly of me, but I don't quite like it—” “Like what?” said Isabel. “Well, Mr. Perrin; he's been looking so queer ever since that quarrel with your Archie. I daresay you haven't noticed anything, and I daresay it may be all my own imaginations, and I'm sure in a place like this one might imagine anything—” “How does he look queer,” said Isabel quietly. “Well, it's his eyes, I suppose, and the things the boys say about him. You know, my dear, I've wondered since whether perhaps he didn't care about you rather a great deal, and whether that isn't another reason for his disliking Archie—” “Care about me?” said Isabel laughing; “why, no, of course not. He's only spoken to me once or twice.” “Well,” said Mrs. Comber, “I've seen him looking at you in the strangest way in chapel. And his face has got so white and thin and drawn, I'm really quite sorry for the poor man. And his eyes are so odd, as though he was trying to see something that wasn't there. And the boys say that he's so strange in class sometimes and stops suddenly in the middle of a lesson and forgets where he is; and Mr. Clinton was telling me that he never speaks to Archie, but sometimes when Archie's there he gets very white and shakes all over and leaves the room. I only want you to warn Archie to be careful, because when a man's lonely like that and begins to think about things, he might do anything.” “Why, what could he do?” Isabel said, with a little catch in her breath. “Well, I don't know, dear,” Mrs. Comber said rather uncertainly. “Only when examinations come on they do seem to get into the men's heads so, and it's only that I thought that Archie might be careful and ready if Mr. Perrin seemed odd at all...” Mrs. Comber left it all very uncertain, and as they sat silently in the room with the fire turning from a roaring blaze into a golden cavern and the shadows on the wall growing smaller and smaller as the fire fell, Isabel seemed to feel the cold black and white of the world outside gather ominously about her. She said good night very quietly, and the two women clung to each other a moment longer than usual, as though they did not wish to leave each other. “At any rate,” said Isabel, “whatever else this place may do, it can't alter our being together. You 've always got me, you know.” But from this moment Isabel was afraid. Perhaps her nerves were strained, perhaps she saw a great deal more than there was to be seen; but she longed for the end of the term with a passionate eagerness, and she could not sleep at nights. And then, curiously, on the very next morning Mr. Perrin came and spoke to her.