t asked him he had
accepted gladly. Because of his long habit in the saddle and his
accuracy of eye he played better from the start than these other
novices. As in football, he teamed well with Goodhue.

"Goodhue to Morton," Wandel complained, "or Morton to Goodhue. What
chance has a mere duffer like me against such a very distinguished
combination?"

It was during these games that Goodhue fell into the practice of
shouting George's first name across the field, and when George became
convinced that such familiarity was not chance, but an expression of a
deepening friendship, he responded unaffectedly. It was inevitable the
others should adopt Goodhue's example. Even Dalrymple did, and George
asked himself why the man was trying to appear friendly, for he knew
that in his heart Dalrymple had not altered.

It filled George with a warm and formless pleasure to hear Betty using
his Christian name, to realize that a precedent had this time been
established; yet it required an effort, filled him with a great
confusion, to call her familiarly "Betty" for the first time.

He chatted with her at the edge of the field while grooms led the ponies
up and down.

"What are your plans for the summer?" she asked.

"I don't quite know what will happen."

"We," she said, "will be in Maine. Can't you run up in August? Dicky
Goodhue's coming then."

He looked at her. He tried to hide his hunger for the companionship, the
relaxation such a visit would give. He glanced away.

"I wish I could. Have you forgotten I'm to make money? I've got to try
to do that this summer, Betty."

There, it was out. Colour stole into her white cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He had another reason for refusing. He was growing afraid of Betty. He
was conscious of an increasing effort to drive her memory from the
little room where Sylvia's portrait watched. It was, he told himself,
because he didn't see Sylvia oftener, couldn't feel his heart respond to
the exciting enmity in her brilliant eyes.

Goodhue and Dalrymple, it developed, were parting, amicably enough as
far as any one knew.

"Dolly thinks he'll room alone next year," was Goodhue's explanation.
Dalrymple explained nothing.

Driving back to town one afternoon Goodhue proposed to George that he
replace Dalrymple.

"Campus rooms," he said, "aren't as expensive as most in town."

He mentioned a figure. George thought rapidly. What an opportunity! And
aside from what Goodhue could do