CHAPTER IV.
THE GODDESS AND THE MOB.
As we descended the stairway and passed groups of students in front of the bulletin boards in the hall, Helen said:—
"I am afraid you shouldn't have called for me. It isn't usual here."
"We'll introduce the custom. How could I help coming—after yesterday? Helen—"
"Have you seen Grant's tomb?" she inquired hastily. "It's just beyond the college buildings, hidden by them. You mustn't miss it, after coming so far."
We had issued on the Boulevard, and a few steps brought us in view of the stately white shrine on Claremont Heights. But I looked instead at her brilliant face against the velvety background of black hat and feather boa.
The sun's rays, striking across the river, played hide-and-seek in her shimmering hair, warming it to gold and touching the rose of her cheeks to a clear radiance. Her eyes were scintillant with changing, flashing lights.
"Well?" she challenged at last, half daring, half afraid. "You know me to-day?"
"You are a sun goddess. Helen, what does it mean?"