to look
at you in chapel. You're just as different from me as any one can be,
and that's why you're like God to me. I don't want you to be decent to
me. I think I'd rather you weren't. But I like to come in sometimes and
hear you say that I'm dirty and untidy. That shows that you've noticed."

"But I'm not at all the sort of person to make a hero of," Olva said
hurriedly. "I don't want you to feel like that about we. That's all
sentimentality. You mustn't feel like that about anybody. You must stand
on your own legs."

"I never have," said Burning, very solemnly, "and I never will. I've
always had somebody to make a hero of. I would love to die for you, I
would really. It's the only sort of thing that I can do, because I'm not
clever. I know you think me very stupid."

"Yes, I do," said Olva, "and you mustn't talk like a schoolgirl. If
we're friends and I let you come in here, you mustn't let your vest come
over your cuffs and you must take those spots off your waistcoat, and
brush your hair and clean your nails, and you must just be sensible and
have a little humour. Why don't you play football?"

"I can't play games, I'm very shortsighted."

"Well, you must take some sort of exercise. Run round Parker's Piece or
something, or go and run at Fenner's. You'll get so fat."

"I _am_ getting fat. I don't think it matters much what I look like."

"It matters what every one looks like. And now you'd better cut. I've
got to go out and see a man."

Burning submissively rose. He said no more but bundled out of the door
in his usual untidy fashion. Olva came after him and banged his "oak"
behind him. In Outer Court, looking now so vast and solemn in the
silence of its snow, Bunning, stopping, pointed to the grey buildings
that towered over them.

"It was against a wall like that that I used to imagine God--on a night
like this--you'll think that very silly." He hurriedly added, "There's
Marshall coming. I know he'll be at me about those Christian Union
Cards. Good-night." He vanished.

But it was not Marshall. It was Rupert Craven. The boy was walking
hurriedly, his eyes on the ground. He was suddenly conscious of some
one and looked up. The change in him was extraordinary. His eyes had
the heavy, dazed look of one who has not slept for weeks. His face was
a yellow white, his hair unbrushed, and his mouth moved restlessly. He
started when he saw Olva.

"Hallo, Craven. You're looking seedy. What's the matter?"

"Not