"To our better acquaintance," said Rudolph, as they raised their
glasses.

"What? Oh, yes, thanks," the other laughed. "Any one would know you for
a griffin here, Mr. Hackh. You've not forgotten your manners yet."

When they had sat down to dinner in another white-washed room, and had
undertaken the promised rice and chicken, he laughed again,
somewhat bitterly.

"Better acquaintance--no fear! You'll be so well acquainted with us all
that you'll wish you never clapped eyes on us." He drained his whiskey
and soda, signaled for more, and added: "Were you ever cooped up,
yachting, with a chap you detested? That's the feeling you come to
have.--Here, stand by. You're drinking nothing."

Rudolph protested. Politeness had so far conquered habit, that he felt
uncommonly flushed, genial, and giddy.

"That," urged Heywood, tapping the bottle, "that's our only amusement.
You'll see. One good thing we can get is the liquor. 'Nisi damnose
bibimus,'--forget how it runs: 'Drink hearty, or you'll die without
getting your revenge,'"

"You are then a university's-man?" cried Rudolph, with enthusiasm.

The other nodded gloomily. On the instant his face had fallen as
impassive as that of the Chinese boy who stood behind his chair,
straight, rigid, like a waxen image of Gravity in a blue gown.--"Yes, of