which flared away all down the tables. In the dark gallery a couple
of sconces burned still and clear. The dusty rafters, the dim
portraits above the panelling, the gleam of gilded cornices were a
pleasant contrast to the lively talk, the brisk coming and going,
the clink and clatter below. It was noisy indeed, but noisy as a
healthy and friendly family party is noisy, with no turbulence.
Once or twice a great shout of laughter rang out from the tables
and died away. There was no sign of discipline, and yet the whole
was orderly enough. The carvers carved, the waiters hurried to and
fro, the swing-doors creaked as the men hurried out. It was a very
business-like, very English scene, without any ceremony or parade,
and yet undeniably stately and vivid.

The undergraduates finished their dinners with inconceivable
rapidity, and the Hall was soon empty, save for the more
ceremonious and deliberate party at the high table. Presently these
adjourned in procession to the Parlour, a big room, comfortably
panelled, opening off the Hall, where the same party sat round the
fire at little tables, sipped a glass of port, and went on to
coffee and cigarettes, while the talk became more general. Howard
felt, as he had often felt before, how little attention even able
and intellectual Englishmen paid to the form of their talk. There
was hardly a grammatical sentence uttered, never an elaborate one;
the object was, it seemed, to get the thought uttered as quickly
and unconcernedly as possible, and even the anecdotes were pared to
the bone. A clock struck nine, and Mr. Redmayne rose. The party
broke up, and Howard went off to his rooms.

He settled down to look over a set of compositions. But he was in a
somewhat restless frame of mind to-night, and a not unpleasant mood