I may just squeak into it." "And now you've finished with Oxford ?" "Oh, dear, no! There's a fortnight more.

One keeps the best--for the last." "Then your people are coming up again for Commem. ?" The innocence of the tone was perfect.
His sparkling eyes met hers.
"I have no domestic prospects of that sort," he said drily.

"What I shall do with this fortnight depends entirely--on one person." The rest of the room seemed full of a buzz of conversation which left them unobserved.

Connie had taken up her large lace fan and was slowly opening and closing it.

The warm pallor of her face and throat, the golden brown of her hair, the grace of her neck and shoulders, enchanted the man beside her.