A BAD HALF-HOUR Burton slept that night under a gorse bush.

He was no sooner alone on the great unlit Common with its vast sense of spaciousness, its cool silence, its splendid dome of starlit sky, than all his anger and disappointment seemed to pass away.

The white, threatening faces of the professor and Mr.Bomford no longer haunted him.

Even the memory of Edith herself tugged no longer at his heartstrings.

He slept almost like a child, and awoke to look out upon a million points of sunlight sparkling in the dewdrops.