"Then I suppose I shall have to go alone. I hate walking alone."

"If you hurry," said Clowes, scanning the road from his post of
vantage, "you'll be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven. He's
just gone out."

Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic way, and overtook the youth
referred to.

Clowes brooded over them from above like a sorrowful and rather
disgusted Providence. Trevor's liking for Ruthven, who was a
Donaldsonite like himself, was one of the few points on which the two
had any real disagreement. Clowes could not understand how any person
in his senses could of his own free will make an intimate friend of
Ruthven.

"Hullo, Trevor," said Ruthven.

"Come over to the baths," said Trevor, "I want to see O'Hara about
something. Or were you going somewhere else."

"I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I never know what to do in
term-time. It's deadly dull."

Trevor could never understand how any one could find term-time dull.
For his own part, there always seemed too much to do in the time.

"You aren't allowed to play games?" he said, remembering something
about a doctor's certificate in the past.