The rag on his part, had been mere revenge; not for the speech, but for the ball.
Was she in love with him?
Impossible! How could such a hard, proud being attract her?
If she did marry him he would crush and wither her.
Yet of course girls did do--every day--such idiotic things.

And he thought uncomfortably of a look he had surprised in her face, as he and she were sitting in the New Quad under the trees and Falloden passed with a handsome dark lady--one of the London visitors.

It had been something involuntary--a flash from the girl's inmost self.

It had chilled and checked him as he sat by her.

Yet the next dance had driven all recollection of it away.
"She can't ever care for me," he thought despairingly.