"After all they were mamma's.

I didn't give them myself." * * * * * Popular as the Marmion ball had been, the Magdalen ball on the following night was really the event of the week.

The beauty of its cloistered quadrangle, its river walks, its President's garden, could not be rivalled elsewhere; and Magdalen men were both rich and lavish, so that the illuminations easily surpassed the more frugal efforts of other colleges.

The midsummer weather still held out, and for all the young creatures, plain and pretty, in their best dancing frocks, whom their brothers and cousins and friends were entertaining, this particular ball struck the top note of the week's romance.
"Who is that girl in black!" said his partner to Douglas Falloden, as they paused to take breath after the first round of waltzing.

"And--good heavens, what pearls! Oh, they must be sham.