ong," said "the Bull." "It _is_
too much. The conditions are so changed. Of course, we can't do this
without the consent of the Games Committee. I think we had better have a
meeting to-morrow afternoon. You might tell the others, will you?"

On the next day after lunch the Games Committee met in "the Bull's"
study. "The Bull" stood with his back to the fireplace.

"As you know, I have called you here this afternoon about the Three
Cock. Of course conditions have so changed that it would be no
reflection on the School House----"

"The Bull" went on. Gordon sat forward on the sofa listening
subconsciously. Scenes rose before his mind. Of Mansell two years back,
after Richard's Thirds, saying: "Wait till 1915." Of Hazelton in the
dormitory saying: "Our day's coming, and you'll see it, Caruthers."
Everyone had expected this year to a triumph. And here he was signing
the death warrant of School House football.

"The Bull" had finished speaking.... A resolution was passed....

"It is a lovely day," said "the Bull," "and I don't want to keep you in.
I expect you all want to be out doing something."

Gordon got out of the study somehow or other.

One of the Games Committee came up to him.

"Jolly good idea of 'the Bull's,' I think. It was much too big a job for
you. Much better arrangement."

"Oh, much."

Gordon went back to the old games study, the very walls of which seemed
eloquent with voices of the dead. The rest of the House had gone for a
run. He was all alone. His head fell forward on his hands. The captaincy
he had tried so hard to gain had ended in pitiable failure. It was the
desolation, the utter desolation!...

Of all that he had worked for during those four years nothing remained,
nothing.

And as Gordon's mind dwelt on this the love of the monastic life which
had so overwhelmed him the holidays before swept over him again with
renewed vigour. In the Roman Church at any rate was there not something
permanent? _Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus...._ That boast
was surely not in vain. He longed to surrender himself completely, to
fling away his own aims and inclinations, and abandon himself to a life
of quiet devotion safe from the world. It was the natural reaction. He
had been tossed on the waters of trouble and had grown weary of strife.
In Plato's _Republic_ Ulysses asked for the life of a private individual
free from care. "After battle sleep is best. After noise, tranquillity."
Dowson's