Jehane unlatched the window and leant out above the flint-paved street, looking up and holding out her hands. From far away, out of sight on the river, came the thud of oars and hoarse shouts where the eights were practising. Halfway down the street the tower of Calvary soared, incredibly frail and defiant, against a running sea of cloud.
“There’s not a drop. If you don’t believe me, feel for yourself. Let’s——”
She drew back swiftly, looking slightly flustered.
From the back of the room Nan’s voice came smooth and unhurried, “What’s the matter? Why don’t you finish what you were saying?”
“It’s a man,” Jehane whispered.
In an instantly arranged conspiracy, Nan tiptoed over to her friend. Cautiously they peered out. No sooner had Nan’s eyes found what they sought than she darted back; Jehane, with rising color, remained bending forward.
The bell rang. A few seconds later, the front-door opened and shut. Jehane drew a long breath and stood erect. Laughing nervously, she patted her face with both hands. “You look scared, you dear old thing—more fluffy than ever: just like a tiny newly hatched chicken—— But it’s happened in the world before.”
“Oh, Jehane, how could you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You know—stare at him like that.”