p, fitted for electric light, hung from the ceiling; there were a
couple of oak chests, curiously carved. On the stained floor lay three
or four mellow rugs, and the window-boxes outside blazed with geraniums.
The debris of tea rested on the window-seat nearest the outer door.

Frank Guiseley, too, lolling in the window-seat in a white silk shirt,
unbuttoned at the throat, and gray flannel trousers, and one white shoe,
was very pleasant to look upon. His hair was as black and curly as a
Neapolitan's; he had a smiling, humorous mouth, and black eyes--of an
extraordinary twinkling alertness. His clean-shaven face, brown in its
proper complexion as well as with healthy sunburning (he had played very
vigorous lawn-tennis for the last two months), looked like a boy's,
except for the very determined mouth and the short, straight nose. He
was a little below middle height--well-knit and active; and though,
properly speaking, he was not exactly handsome, he was quite
exceptionally delightful to look at.

Jack Kirkby, sitting in an arm-chair a yard away, and in the same sort
of costume--except that he wore both his shoes and a Third Trinity
blazer--was a complete contrast in appearance. The other had something
of a Southern Europe look; Jack was obviously English--wholesome red
cheeks, fair hair and a small mustache resembling spun silk. He was,
also, closely on six feet in height.

He was anxious just now, and, therefore, looked rather cross, fingering
the very minute hairs of his mustache whenever he could spare the time
from smoking, and looking determinedly away from Frank upon the floor.
For the last week he had talked over this affair, ever since the amazing
announcement; and had come to the conclusion that once more, in this
preposterous scheme, Frank really meant what he said.

Frank had a terrible way of meaning what he said--he reflected with
dismay. There was the affair of the bread and butter three years ago,
before either of them had learned manners. This had consisted in the
fastening up in separate brown-paper parcels innumerable pieces of bread
and butter, addressing each with the name of the Reverend Junior Dean
(who had annoyed Frank in some way), and the leaving of the parcels
about in every corner of Cambridge, in hansom cabs, on seats, on
shop-counters and on the pavements--with the result that for the next
two or three days the dean's staircase was crowded with messenger boys
and unemployables, anxious to