maxim, "Propriete c'est le vol."

They found the St. Ambrose pool-room full of the fast set; and
Tom enjoyed his game much, though his three lives were soon
disposed of. The Captain and Blake were the last lives on the
board, and divided the pool at Blake's suggestion. He had
scarcely nerve for playing out a single handed match with such an
iron-nerved, steady piece of humanity as the Captain, though he
was the more brilliant player of the two. The party then broke
up, and Tom returned to his rooms; and, when he was by himself
again, his thoughts recurred to Hardy. How odd, he thought, that
they never mentioned him for the boat! Could he have done
anything to be ashamed of? How was it that nobody seemed to know
him, and he to know nobody.

Most readers, I doubt not, will think our hero very green for
being puzzled at so simple a matter; and, no doubt, the steps in
the social scale in England are very clearly marked out, and we
all come to the appreciation of the gradations sooner or later.
But our hero's previous education must be taken into
consideration. He had not been instructed at home to worship mere
conventional distinctions of rank or wealth, and had gone to a
school which was not frequented by persons of rank, and where no
one knew whether a boy was heir to a principality, or would have
to fight his own way in the world. So he was rather taken by
surprise at what he found to be the state of things at St.
Ambrose's and didn't easily realize it.

CHAPTER V

HARDY, THE SERVITOR

It was not long before Tom had effected his object in part. That
is to say, he had caught Hardy several times in the Quadrangle
coming out of Lecture Hall, or Chapel, and had fastened himself
upon him; often walking with him even up to the door of his
rooms. But there matters ended. Hardy was very civil and
gentlemanly; he even seemed pleased with the volunteered
companionship; but there was undoubtedly a coolness about him
which Tom could not make out. But, as he only liked Hardy more,
the more he saw of him, he very soon made up his mind to break
ground himself, and to make a dash at any rate for something more
than a mere speaking acquaintance.

One evening he had as usual walked from Hall with Hardy up to his
door. They stopped a moment talking, and then Hardy, half-opening
the door, said, "Well, goodnight; perhaps we shall meet on the
river to-morrow," and was going in, when Tom, looking him in the
face, blurted out, "