But when, on the departure of the dunce,
Winifred held out her arms, everything fell from him but the sense of
the exquisite moment. Their lips met for the first time, but only for an
instant. He had scarcely time to realize that this wonderful thing had
happened before the mobile creature had darted to his book-shelves and
was examining a Thucydides upside down.
'How clever to know Greek!' she exclaimed. 'And do you really talk it
with the other dons?'
'No, we never talk shop,' he laughed. 'But, Winifred, what made you come
here?'
'I had never seen Oxford. Isn't it beautiful?'
'There's nothing beautiful _here_,' he said, looking round his sober
study.
'No,' she admitted; 'there's nothing I care for here,' and had left
another celestial kiss on his lips before he knew it. 'And now you must
take me to lunch and on the river.'
He stammered, 'I have--work.'
She pouted. 'But I can't stay beyond tomorrow morning, and I want so
much to see all your celebrated oarsmen practising.'
'You are not staying over the night?' he gasped.
'Yes, I am,' and she threw him a dazzling glance.
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