that his wisdom was superior; he only presented it as his own. It was his own career, after all, that was in question. He couldn't refuse to go through the form of trying Eastbourne, or at least of holding his tongue, though there was that in his manner which implied that if he should do so it would be really to give Mr. Coyle a chance to recuperate. He didn't feel a bit overworked, but there was nothing more natural than that, with their tremendous pressure, Mr. Coyle should be. Mr. Coyle's own intellect would derive an advantage from his pupil's holiday. Mr. Coyle saw what he meant, but he controlled himself; he only demanded, as his right, a truce of three days. Owen Wingrave granted it, though, as fostering sad illusions, this went visibly against his conscience; but before they separated the famous crammer remarked:
"All the same, I feel as if I ought to see some one. I think you mentioned to me that your aunt had come to town?"
"Oh yes; she's in Baker Street. Do go and see her," the boy said, comfortingly.
