"It was good of mother," she said. If it hadn't been for her mother she would not have known what to do. The Warden moved his hand away from the mantelshelf and now stood with his back against it, away from the blaze of the fire. "You have never mentioned, in my presence," he said, "what you think about the work that most girls of your age are doing for the war." "Oh yes," said Gwen, eagerly; "mother is so keen about that. She does do such a lot herself, and she took me away from school a fortnight before time was up to go to a hospital for three months' training." "And you are having a holiday and want to go on," suggested the Warden. "No; mother thought I had better have a change. You can't think how horrid the matron was to me--she had favourites, worse luck; and now mother is looking--has been"--Gwen corrected herself sharply--"for something for me to do that would be more suitable, but the difficulty is to find anything really nice." The Warden meditated. "Yes," he said. Gwen continued to look at him, her face full of questioning. "You have been thinking whether you should trust yourself to me," he said very gravely, "and whether you could face the responsibility and the cares of a house, a position, like that of a Warden's wife?" "Oh yes," said Gwen. "You think that you understand them?" he asked. "Oh yes," said Gwen. "At least, I would try; I would do my best." "There is nothing very amusing in my manner of life; in fact, I should describe it as--solemn. The business," he continued, "of a Warden is to ward his college. His wife's business is to assist him." "I should simply love that," said Gwen. "I should really! I'm not clever, I know, but I would try my best, and--I'm so--afraid of you," she said with a gulp of emotion, "and admire you so awfully!" The Warden's face hardened a little, but Gwen did not observe it; all she saw and knew was that the dismal part of the interview was over, for he accepted this outburst as a definite reply on her part to his offer. She was so glad she had said just what she had said. It seemed to be all right. "That is your decision?" he said, only he did not move towards her. He stood there, standing with his back to the projection of the fireplace, his head on a level with the frame of the portrait. The two faces, of the present Warden of the year 1916 and the Warden of the eighteenth century, made a striking contrast. Both men had no lack of physical beauty, but the one had discovered the "rights" of man, and therefore of a Warden, and the other had discovered the "duties" of men, including Wardens. He stood there and did not approach her. He was hesitating.