Still George argued.

With a whirlwind of words Mr. Marrapit drove him from the study:
"Precious moments fly even as you stand here. To your books, sir. In
them seek solace. By application to them refresh your shattered
pocket."

Shamefully was the advice construed. George sought and found solace in
his books by selling his Kirke, his Quain and his Stone to Mr. Schoole
of the Charing Cross Road; his microscope he temporarily lodged with
Mr. Maughan in the Strand; to the science of bridge he applied himself
with a skill that served to supply his petty needs.

Notwithstanding, his career at St. Peter's was of average merit.
George was now in the sixth year of his studies; and by the third part
of his final examination, was alone delayed from the qualification
which would bring him freedom from his uncle's irksome rule.



VI.

His attempt at this last examination had been concluded upon this July
day that opens our history, and thus we return to Mr. Marrapit, to
George, and to the line of smoke uprising from the tobacco.

Mr. Marrapit indicated the smouldering wedge.

George bent forward. "Tobacco," he announced.