But the Doctor was struggling through the most nerve-wrecking month of
the year at the university. The beginning of a new term, the
adjustment of classes, the enrolment of new pupils, all made a heavy
drain on his weakened constitution. He was in no condition in the
evenings to give out anything more, even to a young and devoted bride
who was quite ready to relinquish any other pleasure to burn incense
at the shrine of his learning.
The homesickness that had hung over her since the day she had turned
her back on Thornwood would have enveloped her completely had it not
been for Connie. Connie was but a year her junior, and was thoroughly
disapproved by the family connection. She enjoyed the reputation of
being frivolous and vain, and wholly lacking in reverence to her
elders.
Connie's friends and amusements proved the line of least resistance
along which Miss Lady raced to freedom. The tennis court served as a
joyful substitute for the drab dreariness of the new home, and the
free and easy companionship of Connie's friends a happy relief from
the elderly feminines that invaded it.
The Doctor was still the majestic pivot, round which her thoughts
swung, but the circle was growing wider and wider.
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