Her companion was so nettled by this, that for a moment he could not control his voice to reply.
“I should judge that the young man must be a prodigy,” he said, at length, with a covert sneer.
Gladys lifted her eyes searchingly to his face.
His tone was not pleasant to her, but he looked as innocent as if he had spoken in all sincerity.
“Why!” she said, after a moment’s thought, “if Geoffrey does gain a year he will take his degree when you take yours!”
“Yes.”
A little ripple of roguish laughter issued from the fair girl’s red lips.
“Then let me warn you,” she said, with a merry glance, “to look out for your honors, Mr. Mapleson, for Geoffrey is bound to go to the front, and I have fully made up my mind to hear him deliver the valedictory at Yale two years hence.”
Again the young Southerner had to pause for self-control; it was very hard for him to conceal the rage that was well-nigh overmastering him.
But all at once he bent toward Gladys, and, speaking in a low, resolute tone, said: