f shrill cockney, of boisterous familiarity, of
self-satisfied election. To-morrow morning he would say Mass to the same
sparse congregation of sacristan and sisters-of-mercy and devout old
maids. The same red-wristed server would stump about his liturgical
business in Viner's wake, and the same coffee pot put in the same place
on the same table by the same landlady would await his return. There was
a dreariness about the ministrations of this Notting Hill Mission which
had been absent from the atmosphere of Burgos Cathedral. No doubt
superficially even at Burgos there was a sameness, but it was a glorious
sameness, a sameness that approximated to eternity. Long ago had the
priests learned subordination. They had been absorbed into the
omnipotence of the church against which the gates of hell could not
prevail. Viner remained, however much as he might have surrendered of
himself to his mission work, essentially an isolated, a pathetic
individual.

As usual, Michael met Alan at Paddington, and he was concerned to see
that Alan looked rather pale and worried.

"What problems have you been solving this vac?" Michael asked.

"Oh, I've been swatting like a pig for Mods," said Alan hopelessly. "You
are a lucky lazy devil."

Even during the short journey to Oxford Alan furtively fingered his
text-books, while he talked to Michael about a depressing January in
London.

"Never mind. Perhaps you'll get your Blue next term," said Michael. "And
if you aren't determined to play cricket all the Long, we'll go away and
have a really sporting vac somewhere."

"If I'm plowed," said Alan gloomily, "I've settled to become a chartered
accountant."

Michael enjoyed his second Lent term. With an easy conscience he
relegated Rugby football into the limbo of the past. He decided such
violent exercise was no longer necessary, and he was getting to know so
many people at other colleges that the cultivation of new personalities
occupied all his leisure. After Maurice and Wedderburn came back from
Spain, they devoted much of their time to painting, and The Oxford
Looking-Glass became a very expensive business on account of the
reproduction of their drawings. Moreover, the circulation decreased in
ratio with the increase of these drawings, and the five promoters who
did not wish to practice art in the pages of their magazine convoked
several meetings of protest. Finally Maurice was allowed to remain
editor only on condition that he abstain