lost; for the little fat
man, taking the meerschaum with trembling fingers, and holding it within
two inches of his chin, murmured:

"You fellows, Berryman's awf'ly strong on honour."

He blinked twice, and put the meerschaum back between his lips.

Without returning the third volume to its shelf, Berryman took down
a fourth; with chest expanded, he appeared about to use the books as
dumb-bells.

"Quite so," said Trimmer; "the change from duelling to law courts is
profoundly--"

Whether he were going to say "significant" or "insignificant," in
Shelton's estimate he did not know himself. Fortunately Berryman broke
in:

"Law courts or not, when a man runs away with a wife of mine, I shall
punch his head!"

"Come, come!" said Turner, spasmodically grasping his two wings.

Shelton had a gleam of inspiration. "If your wife deceived you," he
thought, looking at Trimmer's eyes, "you 'd keep it quiet, and hold it
over her."

Washer passed his hand over his pale chaps: his smile had never wavered;
he looked like one for ever lost in the making of an epigram.

The punching theorist stretched his body, holding the books level with
his shoulders, as though to stone his hearers with his point of view.
His face grew paler, his fine eyes finer, his lips ironical. Almost
painful was this combination of the "strong" man and the student who was
bound to go to pieces if you hit him a smart blow.

"As for forgiving faithless wives," he said, "and all that sort of
thing, I don't believe in sentiment."

The words were high-pitched and sarcastic. Shelton looked hastily
around. All their faces were complacent. He grew red, and suddenly
remarked, in a soft; clear voice:

"I see!"

He was conscious that he had never before made an impression of this
sort, and that he never would again. The cold hostility flashing out
all round was most enlightening; it instantly gave way to the polite,
satirical indulgence peculiar to highly-cultivated men. Crocker rose
nervously; he seemed scared, and was obviously relieved when Shelton,
following his example, grasped the little fat man's hand, who said
good-night in a voice shaken by tobacco.

"Who are your unshaven friends?" he heard as the door was closed behind
them.

CHAPTER XIX

AN INCIDENT

"Eleven o'clock," said Crocker, as they went out of college. "I don't
feel sleepy; shall we stroll along the 'High' a bit?"

Shelton assented; he was too busy thinking of his encounter