"So they have, but that's nothing. Dick is only twenty-five, and the
others are about twenty-four."

"A much more irritating age than mere boyhood as a rule."

"Decidedly; but they really are a little exceptional. Dick, of course,
is quite mad - that's what makes him interesting. Alymer Hermon is a
giant with a great cricket reputation, and Harold St. Quintin is a sort
of modern Francis Assisi with a sense of humour."

"The giant sounds the dullest. I hope he doesn't want to talk cricket
all the time, because I don't know anything about it, except that if a
man stands before the wicket he is out, and if he stands behind it he
is not in."

"Oh no; he doesn't talk cricket. He mostly talks drivel with Dick, and
St. Quintin laughs."

"Dick sounds quite the best, in spite of his madness. A cricketer who
talks drivel, and a future clergyman working in the East End, don't
suggest anything that appeals to me in the least."

Nevertheless, when Lorraine, looking very lovely, entered the small
sitting-room of her three hosts, her second glance, in spite of
herself, strayed back to the young giant on the hearth-rug. He was
looking at Hal sideways, with a quizzical air; and she heard him say:

"It may be new, but it's not the very latest fashion, because it
doesn't stick out far enough at the back, and it doesn't cover up