lked, no doubt: Foe didn't.

I shall go on calling him Foe. He was Jack to me, always; but Foe
suits better with the story; and besides . . . well, I suppose
there's always something in friendship that one chooses to keep in a
cage. . . . The only cage-mate that Jack--I mean Foe--ever allowed me
was Jimmy Caldecott, and that happened after we had both moved to
London.

He--Foe--had taken a first-class in the Tripos, of course; and a
fellowship on top of that. But he did not stay up at Cambridge.
He put in the next few years at different London hospitals, published
some papers on the nervous system of animals, got appointed Professor
of Animal Morphology, in the South London University College (the
Silversmiths' College), and might wake up any morning to find himself
a Fellow of the Royal Society. He was already--I am talking of 1907,
when the tale starts--a Corresponding Member of three or four learned
Societies in Europe and the U.S.A., and had put a couple of honorary
doctorates to his account besides his Cambridge DSc.

As for me, I had rooms at first in Jermyn Street, then chambers in
the Inner Temple--my father, who had been Chairman of Quarter
Sessions, holding the opinion that I ought to read for the Bar, that
I might be better qualified in due time to deal out local justice
down in Warwickshire. I read a little, played cricket a good deal,
stuck out three or four London Seasons, travelled a bit, shot a bit
in East Africa (Oh, I forgot to say I'd put in a year in the South
African War); climbed a bit, in Switzerland, and afterwards in the
Himalayas; come home to write a paper for the Geographical Society;
got bitten with Socialism and certain Fabian notions, and put in some
time with an East-End Settlement besides attending many crowded and
unsavoury public meetings to urge what was vaguely known as
Betterment. When I took courage and made a clean breast of my new
opinions to my father, the old man answered very composedly that he
too had been a Radical in his time, and had come out of it all right.
. . . By all means let me go on with my spouting: capital practice
for public life: hoped I should take my place one of these days in
the County Council at home: wouldn't even mind seeing me in
Parliament, etc.--all with the wise calm of one who has passed his
three-score years and ten, found the world good, made it a little
better, hunted his own harriers and learnt, long since, every way in
which hares run