He lingered over the name, and prolonged the last syllable. He seemed loath to let it go.
'I was telling her that I should like to go to a woman's college—to Newnham or Girton.'
'Exactly.'
The Tutor nodded his head. He was listening to the girl, but he was looking out of the window.
'No one is educated now—no woman—who does not go to Newnham, or Girton, or Oxford. No one has any chance of success in teaching who has not taken a place in a Tripos or done something in a University examination.'
The Senior Tutor was smiling, but he was only giving her half his attention.
'And what Tripos do you propose to take?' he asked in his bland, superior, lecture-room manner.
'I? Oh, I don't think I shall ever be clever enough to take a Tripos; but I might learn something—a little. I might learn enough to pass the—the—Little——'
'The Little-go?' suggested the Tutor; 'or, more properly speaking, the "Previous."'