The air too was tonic and gay, a rare thing for Oxford; and Connie, refreshed by sleep, walked with such a buoyant and swinging step that her stout maid could hardly keep up with her.

Many a passer-by observed her.

Men on their way to lecture, with battered caps and gowns slung round their necks, threw sharp glances at the tall girl in black, with the small pale face, so delicately alive, and the dark eyes that laughed--aloof and unabashed--at all they saw.
"What boys they are!" said Constance presently, making a contemptuous lip.

"They ought to be still in the nursery." "What--the young men in the caps, my lady ?" "Those are the undergraduates, Annette--the boys who live in the colleges." "They don't stare like the Italian young gentlemen," said Annette, shrugging her shoulders.

"Many a time I wanted to box their ears for the way they looked at you in the street." Connie laughed.