‘Do you go home?’ interrupted Buckland, addressing the question to his rival.  ‘Or do you stay in Kingsmill until the First B.A.?’

‘I shall go home,’ replied Peak, moving uneasily.

’Perhaps we may have the pleasure of seeing you at Thornhaw when you are up again for the examination?’ said Mrs. Warricombe, with faltering tongue.

‘I’m afraid I shan’t be able to come, thank you,’ was the awkward response.

Buckland’s voice came to the relief.

’I daresay I may look in upon you at your torture.  Good luck, old fellow!  If we don’t see each other again, write to me at Trinity before the end of the year.’

As soon as she was sufficiently remote, Mrs. Warricombe ejaculated in a subdued voice of irritation: 

’Such a very unprepossessing young man I never met!  He seems to have no breeding whatever.’

‘Overweighted with brains,’ replied her husband; adding to himself, ‘and by no means so with money, I fear.’

Opportunity at length offering, Mrs. Warricombe stepped into the circle irradiated by Bruno Chilvers; her husband and Sidwell pressed after.  Buckland, with an exclamation of disgust, went off to criticise the hero among a group of his particular friends.

Godwin Peak stood alone.  On the bench where he had sat were heaped the prize volumes (eleven in all, some of them massive), and his wish was to make arrangements for their removal.  Gazing about him, he became aware of the College librarian, with whom he was on friendly terms.

‘Mr. Poppleton, who would pack and send these books away for me?’

‘An embarras de richesse!’ laughed the librarian.  ’If you like to tell the porter to take care of them for the present, I shall be glad to see that they are sent wherever you like.’

Peak answered with a warmth of acknowledgment which seemed to imply that he did not often receive kindnesses.  Before long he was free to leave the College, and at the exit he overtook Earwaker, who carried a brown paper parcel.

‘Come and have some tea with me across the way, will you?’ said the literary prizeman.  ‘I have a couple of hours to wait for my train.’

‘All right.  I envy you that five-volume Spenser.’

’I wish they had given me five authors I don’t possess instead.  I think I shall sell this.’

Earwaker laughed as he said it—­a strange chuckle from deep down in his throat.  A comparison of the young men, as they walked side by side, showed that Peak was of better physical type than his comrade.  Earwaker had a slight, unshapely body and an ill-fitting head; he walked with excessive strides and swung his thin arm nervously.  Probably he was the elder of the two, and he looked twenty.  For Peak’s disadvantages of person, his studious bashfulness and poverty of attire were mainly responsible.  With improvement in general health even his features might have a tolerable comeliness, or at all events would not be disagreeable.  Earwaker’s visage was homely, and seemed the more so for his sprouting moustache and beard.