, incubated. The exaltation is momentary, the cold
chill of fact overtakes me. There is no use in deceiving one's self.
Philip is mistaken. I am not worthy.

But that day Philip rallied nobly to the situation. My little remark on
strong language had hurt him, but he saw also that I was sorry to have
hurt him, and he was sorry for me in turn. "I don't in the least mind
your telling me what you think about the way we fellows talk," he said.
"That's the advantage of having a man for one's friend, he is not afraid
of telling you the truth even if it hurts. And then, if you wish to, you
can fight back. You can't do that with a woman."

"Have you found that out for yourself!" I asked him.

He looked at me to see if again I was resorting to irony. But this time
he found me sincere.

"Women!" Philip sniffed. "I have found it doesn't pay to talk seriously
to a woman. There is really only one way of getting on with them, and
that's jollying them. And the thicker you lay it on, the better." He put
away his pipe and proffered me a cigarette. "I like to change off now
and then. I have these made for me in a little Russian shop I discovered
some time ago. They draw better than any cigarette I have ever smoked.
Of course, there are women who are serious and all that. There are a lot
in the postgraduate department and some in the optional literature
courses. But you ought to see them! And such grinds. None of us fellows
stands a ghost of a chance with them. They take notes all the time and
read all the references and learn them by heart. You can't jolly
_them_. They wouldn't know a joke if you led them up to one and told
them what it meant. I think coeducation is all played out, don't you?
Home is the only place for women, anyhow. Do you like your cigarette?"

The Patient Observer, it may possibly have been gathered before this, is
somewhat of a sentimentalist. He liked his cigarette very well, but
through the blue haze he looked at Philip and could not help thinking of
the time--only two short years ago--when he, the Patient Observer, with
his own eyes saw Philip borrow a dollar from his mother before setting
out for an ice-cream parlour in the company of two girl cousins. The
Patient Observer has changed little in the last two years; his hair may
be a little thinner and his knowledge of doctors' bills a little more
complete. But in Philip of to-day he found it hard to recognise the
Philip of two years ago. And the marvels of the