and imaginative, but he felt an extreme delight in the fearless and direct confidence which the boy showed in him.  He criticised his work unsparingly, he rallied him on his tastes, he snubbed him, but all with a sense of real and instinctive sympathy which made everything easy.  The boy never resented anything that he said, asked his advice, looked to him to get him out of any small difficulties that arose.  They were not very much together, and mostly met only on official occasions.  Howard was a busy man, and had little time, or indeed taste, for vague conversation.  Jack was a boy of natural tact, and he treated all the authorities with the same unembarrassed directness.  Undergraduates are quick to remark on any sort of favouritism, but only if they think that the favoured person gets any unfair advantage by his intimacy.  But Howard came down on Jack just as decisively as he came down on anyone else whose work was unsatisfactory.  It was known that they were a sort of cousins; and, moreover, Jack Sandys was generally popular, though only in his first year, because he was free from any touch of uppishness, and of an imperturbable good-humour.

But his own feeling for the boy surprised Howard.  He did not think him very interesting, nor had they much in common except a perfect goodwill.  It was to Howard as if Jack represented something beyond and further than himself, for which Howard cared—­as one might love a house for the sake of someone that had inhabited it, or because of events that had happened there.  He tried vaguely to interest Jack in some of the things he cared about, but wholly in vain.  That cheerful youth went quietly on his own way—­modest, handsome, decided, knowing exactly what he liked, with very material tastes and ambitions, not in the least emotional or imaginative, and yet with a charm of which all were conscious.  He was bored by any violent attempts at friendship, and quite content in almost anyone’s company, naturally self-contained and temperate, making no claims and giving no pledges; and yet Howard was deeply haunted by the sense that Jack stood for something almost bewilderingly fine which he himself could not comprehend or interpret, and of which the boy himself was wholly and radiantly unconscious.  It gave him, indeed, a sudden warmth about the heart to see Jack in the court, or even to think of him as living within the same walls; but there was nothing jealous or exclusive about his interest, and when they met, there was often nothing particular to say.

Presently lunch was announced, and Howard led the way to a little panelled parlour which looked out on the river.  They both ate with healthy appetites; and presently Jack, looking about him, said, “This room is rather nice!  I don’t know how you make your rooms so nice?”

“Mostly by having very little in them except what I want,” said Howard.  “These panelled rooms don’t want any ornaments; people spoil rooms by stuffing them, just as you spoil my cat,”—­Jack was feeding the cat with morsels from his plate.