"True. But remember. 'Who sups with the devil should hold a long spoon.' All the same, if you can bear another proverb, 'It's an ill wind,' etc. If I hadn't been hard up for a refuge, I should never have thought of bringing you up here, and for any one to get an idea of Oxford it's as good a place as I know."
Miss Deriot gazed at the magnificent prospect before replying.
"It ought to make me feel very small," she said suddenly, "but somehow it doesn't. It's so terribly old and all that, but it's got such a kind look."
"That," said I, "is the quality of Oxford. And I congratulate you. You are articulate where wise men have stood dumb. Perhaps it's because you're so much alike."
"Who."
"You and Oxford."
"Am I so terribly old?"
I shook my head.
"But you're beautifully built, and you've got a kind look and handsome ways, and your temples are a dream, and all our swains commend you, and——"
"Stop, stop. You're getting mixed."