‘I don’t get on much,’ said Martin with a swift confiding smile. ‘I’m such an idle devil. And so slow.’
She pondered.
‘I don’t think I’m particularly clever,’ she said. ‘Do you suppose most girls who go to College are?’
‘Martin and I think they must be,’ said Roddy, twinkling. ‘They look it, I will say.’
‘I saw some when I went for my examination. They were very plain.’ There was laughter; and she added in strict fairness: ‘There were two pretty ones,—two or three.’
‘Then you intend to become a young woman with really intellectual interests?’ said Roddy.
‘Oh yes. I think so.’
‘That’s rather serious.’
She became suddenly aware that they were all laughing at her and stopped, overcome with shame and dismay.
‘Never mind.’ Roddy was twinkling at her with irresistible gaiety, and his voice was full of caressing inflections. ‘Martin will be delighted to see you. But don’t go to Newnham or Girton. Awful places—Martin is terrified of them. Go to Trinity. He’ll chaperone you.’