from the moment of his first appearance. "You know," he blurted, "this
is simply extraordinary. I say, you chaps, Duncan and I haven't met for
years--not since he graduated. We belonged to the same frat, y'know,
and had a jolly time of it, if he was an upper-class man. No side about
him at all, y'know--absolutely none whatever. Whenever I had to go out
on a spree, I'd always get Nat to show me round."

"I was pretty good at that," Duncan admitted a trifle ruefully.

But Willy rattled on, heedless. "He knew more pretty gels, y'know... I
say, old chap, d'you know as many now?"

Duncan shook his head. "The list has shrunk. I'm a changed man, Willy."

"Ow, I say, you're chawfin'," Willy argued incredulously. "I don't
believe that, y'know--hardly. I say, you remember the night you showed
me how to play faro bank?"

"I'll never forget it," Duncan told him gravely. "And I remember what a
plug we thought my room-mate was because he wouldn't come with us." He
nodded significantly toward the amused Kellogg.

"Not him!" cried Willy, expostulant. "Not really? Why it cawn't be!"

"Fact," Duncan assured him. "He was working his way through college,
you see, whereas I was working my way through my allowance--and then
some. That's why you never met him, Willy: he worked--and got the
habit. We loafed--with the same result. That's why he's useful and
you're ornamental, and I'm--" He broke off in surprise. "Hello!" he
said as Robbins offered a tray to the three on which were slim-stemmed