day was lying covered
with gray fluff under the bed.

"Oh, no, don't play golf," protested Michael, "you've got two more years
to get your Blue and all your life to play golf, which is a rotten game
and has ruined Varsity cricket."

"But one can be alone at golf," said Alan.

"Alone?" repeated Michael. "Why on earth should you want to play an
outdoor game alone?"

"Because I get depressed sometimes," Alan explained. "What good am I?"

Michael began to laugh.

"It's nothing to laugh at," said Alan sadly. "I've been thinking of my
future. I shall never have enough money to marry. I shall never get my
Blue. I shall get a fourth in Greats. Perhaps I shan't even get into the
Egyptian Civil Service. I expect I shall end as a bank clerk. Playing
cricket for a suburban club on Saturday afternoons. That's all I see
before me. When is Stella going to Vienna?"

"I don't know that she is going," said Michael. "She always talks a
great deal about things which don't always come off."

"I was rather surprised she seemed to like that man Avery so much," Alan
said. "But I suppose he pretended to know an awful lot about music. I
don't think I care for him."

"Some people don't," Michael admitted. "I think women always like him,
though."

"Yes, I should think they did," Alan agreed bitterly. "Sorry I'm so
depressing. Have a meringue or something."

"Alan, why, are you in love with Stella?" Michael challenged.

"What made you think I was?" countered Alan, looking alarmed.

"It's pretty obvious," Michael said. "And curiously enough I can quite
understand it. Generally, of course, a brother finds it difficult to
understand what other people can see in his sister, but I'm never
surprised when they fall in love with Stella."

"A good many have?" asked Alan, and his blue eyes were sharpened by a
pain deeper than that of seeing a catch in the slips missed off his
bowling.

Michael nodded.

"Oh, I've realized for a long time how utterly hopeless it was for me,"
Alan sighed. "I'm evidently going to be a failure."

"Would you care for some advice?" inquired Michael very tentatively.

"What sort of advice?" Alan asked.

Michael took this for assent, and plunged in.

"Let her alone," he adjured his friend. "Let her absolutely alone. She's
very young, you know, and you're not very old. Let her alone for at
least a year. I suggest two years. Don't see much of her, and don't let
her think you care. That would interest her for