rather a pity to waste one’s time so when they were really doing some first-rate things. That was JUST the trouble, however. The appeal of a man like that was mainly to the unformed taste, the uncritical judgment. He had a flashy attraction for the immature. Oh, yes! Undoubtedly an amusing fellow. Clever—yes, but hardly significant. And—didn’t he think—a trifle noisy? Or had he noticed that? Yes—there was to be sure an amusing Celtic strain, not without charm, but unsound. He was not in line with the best modern thought.
“I’ll take the Barrie,” said Eugene.
Yes, he rather thought that would be better.
“Well, good day. Mr.—Mr.—?—?” he smiled, fumbling again with his cards.
“Gant.”
Oh yes, to be sure, —Gant. He held out his plump limp hand. He did hope Mr. Gant would call on him. Perhaps he’d be able to advise him on some of the little problems that, he knew, were constantly cropping up during the first year. Above all, he mustn’t get discouraged.
“Yes, sir,” said Eugene, backing feverishly to the door. When he felt the open space behind him, he fell through it, and vanished.
Anyway, he thought grimly, I’ve read all the damned Barries. I’ll write the damned report for him, and damned well read what I damn well please.
God save our King and Queen!
He had courses besides in Chemistry, Mathematics, Greek, and Latin.
He worked hard and with interest at his Latin. His instructor was a tall shaven man, with a yellow saturnine face. He parted his scant hair cleverly in such a way as to suggest horns. His lips were always twisted in a satanic smile, his eyes gleamed sideward with heavy malicious humor. Eugene had great hopes of him. When the boy arrived, panting and breakfastless, a moment after the class had settled to order, the satanic professor would greet him with elaborate irony: “Ah there, Brother Gant! Just in time for church again. Have you slept well?”
