the lover.

"I suppose this means the end of football, the end of cricket, in fact
the end of school as far as you're concerned," Alan complained. "I wish
you'd waited a little."

"I told you I was years older than you," Michael pointed out,
involuntarily making excuses.

"Only because you would encourage yourself to think so. Well, I hope
everything will go well. I hope you won't take it into your head to
think you've got to marry her immediately, or any rot like that."

"Don't be an ass," said Michael.

"Well, you're such an impulsive devil. By Jove, the fellow that first
called you 'Bangs' was a bit of a spotter."

"It was Abercrombie," Michael reminded him.

"I should think that was the only clever thing he ever did in his life,"
said Alan.

"Why, I thought you considered him no end of a good man."

"He was a good forward and a good deep field," Alan granted. "But that
doesn't make him Shakespeare."

Thence onwards war, or rather sport the schoolboys' substitute, ousted
love from the conversation, and very soon solo whist with Mr. and Mrs.
Merivale disposed of-both.

On Tuesday night Michael in a fever of enthusiasm for Wednesday's
approach wrote a letter to Stella.

64 CARLINGTON ROAD,

_October_, 1900.

_My dear Stella,_

_After this you needn't grouse about my letters being dull, and you
can consider yourself jolly honoured because I'm writing to tell
you that I'm in love. Her name is Lily Haden. Only, of course,
please don't go shouting this all over Germany, and don't write a
gushing letter to mother, who doesn't know anything about it. I
shouldn't tell you if you were in London, and don't write back and
tell me that you're in love with some long-haired dancing-master or
one-eyed banjo-player, because I_ know _now what love is, and it's
nothing like what you think it is._

_Lily is fair--not just fair like a doll, but_ frightfully _fair.
In fact, her hair is like bubbling champagne, I met her in
Kensington Gardens. It was truly romantic, not a silly, giggling,
gone-on-a-girl sort of meeting. I hope you're getting on with your
music. I shall introduce Lily to you just before your first
concert, and then if you can't play, well, you never will. You
might write me a letter and say what you think of my news. Not a
gushing letter, of course, but as sensible as you can make it._

_Your lovin