‘I’m sorry. Julian then.’
‘That’s better,’ he said, still stiffly; but he smiled.
Their faces had become clear to her now; but there was still a point of trouble and strangeness in the room,—the queer-looking sallow young man Roddy. Her eyes fluttered over him and went on to Martin. He smiled at her, and she took a step nearer to him.
‘Are you at Cambridge?’ she said.
‘I am.’
‘That’s where I’m going.’
‘Are you really?’
‘For what purpose?’ said Roddy softly.
‘Oh, to learn. I want to learn everything about literature—English literature anyway, from the very beginning,’ she said earnestly.
‘That’s precisely what Martin’s aiming at. Isn’t it, Martin, you bookworm?’