Never before had I heard one sullying word breathed on the spotless snow of my mother's character.

Is it strange that the cold, venomous tongue of slander, hissing at my very back, should make me shudder and recoil as if a serpent were there?
A hand touched my shoulder, lightly, gently, but I knew its touch, though never felt but once before.

I looked up involuntarily, and met the eyes of Ernest Linwood, who was standing close to the seat I occupied.

I did not know he was there.

He had wedged the crowd silently, gradually, till he reached the spot he had quitted soon after our entrance, to greet his former class mates.