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One he had done at Cambridge quite recently. "The inns are
better than they are at Oxford, which is not saying very much, but
the place struck me as being changed. The men seemed younger. . . ."
The burden of the conversation fell upon Lady Marayne. She looked
extraordinarily like a flower to Billy, a little diamond buckle on a
black velvet band glittered between the two masses of butter-
coloured hair that flowed back from her forehead, her head was
poised on the prettiest neck conceivable, and her shapely little
shoulders and her shapely little arms came decidedly but pleasantly
out of a softness and sparkle of white and silver and old rose. She
talked what sounded like innocent commonplaces a little spiced by
whim, though indeed each remark had an exploratory quality, and her
soft blue eyes rested ever and again upon Billy's white tie. It
seemed she did so by the merest inadvertency, but it made the young
man wish he had after all borrowed a black one from Benham. But the
manservant who had put his things out had put it out, and he hadn't
been quite sure.


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