'Thet you, Godwin? Thoughts I, it must be 'im! 'Ow goes it, my
bo-oy? You 'ardly reckonise me, I dessay, and I couldn't be sure as
it was you till I'd 'ed a good squint at yer. I've jest called round
at your lodgin's, and they towld me as you was at the Collige.'

He who thus accosted the student, with the most offensive purity of
Cockney accent, was a man of five-and-forty, dressed in a new suit
of ready-made tweeds, the folding crease strongly marked down the
front of the trousers and the coat sleeves rather too long. His face
bore a strong impress of vulgarity, but at the same time had a
certain ingenuousness, a self-absorbed energy and simplicity, which
saved it from being wholly repellent; the brow was narrow, the eyes
small and bright, and the coarse lips half hid themselves under a
struggling reddish growth. In these lineaments lurked a family
resemblance to Godwin Peak, sufficient to support a claim of kindred
which at this moment might have seemed improbable. At the summons of
recognition Godwin stood transfixed; his arms fell straight, and his
head drew back as if to avoid a blow. For an instant he was clay
colour, then a hot flush broke upon his cheeks.

'I shan't be able to go with you,' he said, in a thick, abrupt
voice, addressing Earwaker but not regarding him. 'Good-bye!'

The other offered his hand and, without speaking, walked away.

'Prize-dye at the Collige, they tell me,' pursued Godwin's relative,
looking at a cluster of people that passed. 'What 'ave you took?'

'One or two class-prizes,' replied the student, his eyes on the
ground. 'Shall we walk to my lodgings?'