His voice had broken. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. Her face expressed nothing. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own.
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