'It's not a subject I care to talk about, you may be sure. But I do
hope you won't do anything rash, Godwin.'

'Not I. To tell you the truth, I'm not at all sorry to leave. It was
a mistake that I went in for the Arts course--Greek, and Latin,
and so on, you know; I ought to have stuck to science. I shall go
back to it now. Don't be afraid. I'll make a position for myself
before long. I'll repay all you have spent on me.'

To this conclusion had he come. The process of mind was favoured by
his defeat in all the Arts subjects; in that direction he could see
only the triumphant Chilvers, a figure which disgusted him with
Greeks, Romans, and all the ways of literature. As to his future
efforts he was by no means clear, but it eased him greatly to have
cast off a burden of doubt; his theorising intellect loved the
sensation of life thrown open to new, however vague, possibilities.
At present he was convinced that Andrew Peak had done him a service.
In this there was an indication of moral cowardice, such as commonly
connects itself with intense pride of individuality. He desired to
shirk the combat with Chilvers, and welcomed as an excuse for doing
so the shame which another temper would have stubbornly defied.

Now he would abandon his B.A. examination,--a clear saving of money.
Presently it might suit him to take the B.Sc. instead; time enough to
think of that. Had he but pursued the Science course from the first,
who at Whitelaw could have come out ahead of him? He had wasted a
couple of years which might have been most profitably applied: by
this time he might have been ready to obtain a position as
demonstrator in some laboratory, on his way perhaps to a