“Do you mean that you are going to see her--in town?” asked Bee, doubtfully. “In town? No. She detests town. It’s all so vain and so hollow, and such a rush. She came to live in Oxford at the beginning of last term,” Charlie said. “Oh,” said Bee, and she found no more to say. She did not herself understand how it was that a little chill came upon her great sympathy with Charlie and this unknown lady of his--friendship, if not love. CHAPTER XIII. COLONEL KINGSWARD, however, could not be moved either by Bee’s representations or by anything said by his son to grant to Charlie the permission, and the funds necessary, to pursue his studies in Oxford by going “up” to read “in the Long.” It was indeed very little that Charlie said to his father on the subject. He responded somewhat sullenly to the Colonel’s questions. “So I hear you want to go back to Oxford to read?” “Yes,” said the young man. “You have generally found before this that by the end of the term you had had too much reading.” No reply. “I suppose you want to be free of supervision and do exactly what you please. And you find it dull at home?” “I have never said so,” said Charlie. “You ought to feel that in the circumstances it was appropriate that it should be dull. Good heavens! Were you contemplating amusing yourself, rioting with your comrades, when your poor mother--” “I have never thought of rioting with comrades,” said Charlie, with averted head. “One knows what that means--going up to read in the Long: boats and billiards and hotels, bands of young men in flannels lounging about, and every decorum thrown to the winds.” The Colonel looked severely at his son, who stood before him turning over the pages of a book in his hand, with lowering brows and closed mouth. “You think I don’t know,” he said, sharply; “but you are mistaken. What would have been best for you would have been the discipline of a regiment. I always thought so, but at least I’m not going to permit every decent bond to be broken through.” “I think, sir,” said Charlie, “that it’s enough to say ‘No,’ without accusing me of things I never thought of.” “I am the best judge of what is enough,” said the angry father. “If you want a week or so in town, I don’t object; but Oxford in the Long--No. I only hope,” he added severely, “that there’s no woman in the case.” Charlie’s countenance flushed crimson. He gave his father a furious glance. “If that’s all,” he said, “I may now go, perhaps?”