Read Miss Grimsleys Oxford Career for Free Online Page B

turned, a look of interest in his lively eyes.
    “My Aunt Shreve was teasing me a moment ago, but tell me, sir, is Oxford really the center of the universe?”
    He came back to stand beside her. She noted the shabbiness of his coat under the student gown and his collar frayed around the edges. He did not appear to have shaved that morning, and his eyes were tired. He was silent a moment, considering her question, and then the good cheer reappeared. He shifted his books to his other arm and touched her arm lightly.
    “I will give you an Oxford answer, Miss Grimsley,” he said. “The answer to that question depends entirely upon where you are standing.”
    “Well, then, sir, where are you standing now?” she persisted. “I really must know.”
    He looked down at her, his expression hard to read. “I would say that from where I am standing right now, yes, and yes again, Miss Grimsley. Good day.”
    And then he was gone, taking long strides down the hill toward the town. She thought he whistled as he hurried along.
    Ellen watched him for a moment and then returned to the carriage. “I just met the strangest man,” she said to her aunt, who had been admiring the view from the other window. “A student, I think.”
    Aunt Shreve turned and followed Ellen's gaze. “That fellow over there? He certainly has a broad set of shoulders to recommend him.”
    “Aunt!”
    “I may be a widow twenty years and my children grown, my dear, but I can admire,” Aunt Shreve replied. “Come, come, Ellen. You have had your look at Oxford. What do you think?”
    “His ears are flat.”
    Aunt Shreve stared at her in consternation and then burst into laughter. “My dear, I do not open bottles of Palais Royal for flat ears!”
    “I am only teasing, Aunt,” Ellen replied. “I think Oxford is splendid. I also think that words do not describe it.” She leaned forward and touched her aunt on the knee. “Thank you, Aunt Shreve. Even if Papa only allows me to stay here until Horry's wedding, it will be enough.”
    As they drove across the bridge, the clouds settled lower, resting on the highest spires as the honey-colored buildings turned gray again. When the cold rain began, Ellen wondered if the tall student had reached his chambers in time. Then she put him from her mind as the magnificence of Oxford surrounded her.
    Gordon Grimsley, black-gowned and even handsomer than she remembered, paced in front of the fireplace in Miss Dignam's sitting room. Ellen shook the rain from her cloak and only had time to lay it aside before her brother grabbed her in a bear hug and kissed her soundly on both cheeks.
    He had an appreciative audience. As he whirled her around and she shrieked in protest, Ellen made the observation that Gordon Grimsley rarely did anything without an audience.
    The sitting room was occupied by young ladies who had all suspended whatever activity they were engaged in to watch—cards clutched tight in nerveless fingers; stitches dropped; pages unturned; words arrested in midsentence. As she stood in the circle of his arms, Ellen Grimsley noted that her brother had lost none of his effect on females, even the select females of Miss Dignam's Academy.
    “Gordon, really,” she whispered. “You've never been so glad to see me before!”
    He winked at her and nodded to a dry husk of a woman bearing down on them from the other side of the room. He spoke out of the side of his mouth. “I do not think she will suffer me much longer in her sitting room.”
    “And no wonder,” Ellen whispered back. “Gordon, you are incorrigible.”
    “Yes, thank the Almighty,” he agreed. He turned then and bowed to the lady approaching. The bow was so elegant that several of the young ladies sighed. Ellen put her hand to her mouth to smother her laughter. Trust Gordon to put his best foot forward.
    “Ellen,” he was saying, “it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you Miss Dignam, your headmistress. Miss Dignam, this is my little