“Not with Miss Oliphant?”
“With her, least of all.”
“That is a pity,” said Hammond, gravely, “for no one can feel more kindly towards you.”
Prissie made no response.
They walked to the end of the High Street.
“This is your way,” said Hammond, “down this quiet lane; we shall get to St. Benet’s in ten minutes.”
“I am not going there. Good-bye, Mr Hammond.”
“Miss Peel, you must forgive my appearing to interfere with you, but it is absolutely wrong for a young girl, such as you are, to wander about alone in the vicinity of a large university town. Let me treat you as my sister for once, and insist on accompanying you to the gates of the college.”
Prissie looked up at him. “It is very good of you to take any notice of me,” she said, after a pause. “You won’t ever again after—after you know what I have been accused of. If you wish me to go back to St. Benet’s, I will; after all, it does not matter, for I can go out by-and-by somewhere else.”
Hammond smiled to himself at Prissie’s very qualified submission. Just then a carriage came up and drove slowly past them. Miss Oliphant, in her velvet and sables, was seated in it. Hammond sprang forward with heightened colour, and an eager exclamation on his lips. She did not motion to the coachman to stop, however, but gave the young man a careless, cold bow. She did not notice Priscilla at all. The carriage quickly drove out of sight, and Hammond, after a pause, said gravely—