tasted Zwieback biscuits; then he had walked with people he
liked, and had walked just long enough; and now his room was full
of other people whom he liked, and when they left he would go and
have supper with Ansell, whom he liked as well as any one. A year
ago he had known none of these joys. He had crept cold and
friendless and ignorant out of a great public school, preparing
for a silent and solitary journey, and praying as a highest
favour that he might be left alone. Cambridge had not answered
his prayer. She had taken and soothed him, and warmed him, and
had laughed at him a little, saying that he must not be so tragic
yet awhile, for his boyhood had been but a dusty corridor that
led to the spacious halls of youth. In one year he had made many
friends and learnt much, and he might learn even more if he could
but concentrate his attention on that cow.

The fire had died down, and in the gloom the man by the piano
ventured to ask what would happen if an objective cow had a
subjective calf. Ansell gave an angry sigh, and at that moment
there was a tap on the door.

"Come in!" said Rickie.

The door opened. A tall young woman stood framed in the light
that fell from the passage.

"Ladies!" whispered every-one in great agitation.

"Yes?" he said nervously, limping towards the door (he was rather
lame). "Yes? Please come in. Can I be any good--"