t from the wall, like a screen sheltering the door which Lady Dashwood entered. Over the door was the portrait of a Cardinal once a member of King's. Over the mantelpiece was a large engraving of King's as it was in the sixteenth century. At a desk in the middle of the room sat the Warden with his back to the fire and his face towards the serried array of books. He was just turning up a reading-lamp--for he always read and wrote by lamplight.
"Robinson hasn't drawn your curtains," said Lady Dashwood.
"I am going to draw them--he came in too soon," said the Warden, without moving from his seat. His face was lit up by the flame of the lamp which he was staring at intently. There was just a faint sprinkling of grey in his brown hair, but on the regular features there was almost no trace of age.
"You have given Gwen another book to read," said Lady Dashwood coming up to the writing-table.
The Warden raised his eyes very slowly to hers. His eyes were peculiar. They were very narrow and