He was ecstatically happy. His first term had been a triumph. And, fittingly enough, it had ended with the greatest triumph of all. Ever since Helen had told him of her confession to her father, Speed had been making up his mind to visit the Head and formally put the matter before him. That night, the last night of the summer term, after the service in chapel, when the term, so far as the Head was concerned with it, was finished. Speed had tapped at the door of the Head's study. Once again the sight of that study, yellowly luminous in the incandescent glow, set up in him a sensation of sinister attraction, as if the room were full of melancholy ghosts. The Head was still in his surplice, swirling his arms about the writing-table in an endeavour to find some mislaid paper. The rows upon rows of shining leather-bound volumes, somebody on the Synoptic Gospels, somebody else's New Testament Commentary, seemed to surround him and enfold him like a protective rampart. The cool air of the summer night floated in through the slit of open window and blew the gas-light fitfully high and low. Speed thought, as he entered the room and saw the Head's shining bald head bowed over the writing-table: Here you have been for goodness knows how many years and terms, and now has come the end of another one. Don't you feel any emotion in it at all?--You are getting to be an old man: can you bear to think of the day you first entered this old room and placed those books on the shelves instead of those that belonged to your predecessor?--Can you bear to think of all the generations that have passed by, all the boys, now men, who have stared at you inside this very room, while time, which bore them away in a happy tide, has left you for ever stranded?--Why I, even I, can feel, after the first term, something of that poignant melancholy which, if I were in your place, would overwhelm me. Don't you--can't you--feel anything at all-- The Head looked up, observed Speed, and said: "Um, yes--pleased to see you, Mr. Speed--have you come to say good-bye--catching an early train to-morrow, perhaps--um, yes--eh?" "No, sir. I wanted to speak to you on a private matter. Can you spare me a few moments?" "Oh yes, most certainly. Not perhaps the--um--usual time for seeing me, but still--that is no matter. I shall be--um--happy to talk with you, Mr. Speed." Speed cleared his throat, shifted from one foot to another, and began, rather loudly, as always when he was nervous: "Miss Ervine, sir, I believe, spoke to you some while ago about--about herself and me, sir." The Head placed the tips of his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. "That is so, Mr. Speed." "I--I have been meaning to come and see you about it for some time. I hope--I hope you didn't think there was anything underhand in my not seeing you?"