well have looked for him as for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Alymer Hermon, after a sojourn on the continent to study languages, was
now established with a barrister, waiting, it must be confessed,
without much concern, for his first brief.

Of the three he was the most striking. Dick Bruce was only ordinarily
good-looking, with a very white skin, a fine forehead, and an arresting
pair of eyes - eyes that were like an index to a brain that held
volumes of original observations and whimsicalities, and revealed only
just as much or little as the author chose.

Harold St. Quintin was small and rather delicate, with never-failing
cheerfulness on his lips, and eyes that seemed always to have behind
them the recollection of the pitiful scenes among which he voluntarily
moved.

Alymer Hermon was Adonis returned to earth. He stood six foot five and
a half inches in his socks, and was as perfectly proportioned as a man
may be; with a head and face any sculptor might have been proud to copy
line by line for a statue of masculine beauty.

When he was captain of the Oxford Eleven, people spoke of his beauty
more than his cricket, although the latter was quite sufficiently
striking in itself. There were others who had sweepstakes on his
height, before the score he would make, or the men he would bowl.

The 'Varsity' was proud of him, as they had never been proud of a
captain before, because he upheld every tradition of manliness and
manhood at its best. And they only liked him the better that so far