arsity," Dennison declared,
"and as long as a college has a lot of men like him in it nothing else
matters. We don't want smugs here."

"Murray," I said solidly, "is neither a prig nor a smug, and as you
have never said half-a-dozen words to him you can't possibly know
anything about him."

"A smug is always labelled," he answered, "and that man looks one from
his hat to his boots, don't you think so, Lambert?"

Of course Lambert thought so, and I, having already said much more than
I intended, was just going to say a lot more, when a whole crowd of men
came into the room and saved me from the impossible task of making
Dennison believe that he could make a mistake.

I went back to my rooms and found Fred waiting for me, but from the way
I banged my note-book on the table and threw my gown into a corner, I
should not think that he expected me to be very pleasant. Fred,
however, understood me, and it seems to me that I have always been very
lucky in having one friend who never tried to make out that I was in a
good temper when I was in a bad one. Some people when they suspect
that you are angry ask silly little questions just to find out if their
suspicious are true, but Fred always left me alone. He simply took no
notice of me at all, and though that was very annoying, it was not half
as bad as a string of questions or a lot of stupid remarks about things
which I did not want to hear. I banged about the room tremendously,
but Fred went on reading _The Sportsman_ and waited for me to become
fit to speak to.

At last I threw myself into a chair close to him.

"For goodness' sake stop reading that blessed paper," I said; "why I
take the wretched thing I don't know, who cares whether Kent beats
Lancashire or whether Cambridge makes four hundred against the M.C.C."

"You and I do," Fred answered, and tossed _The Sportsman_ on to the
table.

"I have been waiting here for half-an-hour to hear what has happened,
but you seem to be in such an infernally bad temper that I should think
I had better go. There is a very fair chance of a row if I stay here,
for I can't stand much to-day," he went on, when I had picked up the
paper to see who had made the runs for Cambridge.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"Everything."

"Did you have a good ball?"

"Perfectly rotten."

"Did Nina get plenty of partners?"

"Crowds."

"And you didn't feel like going on the 'Cher' this morning?"

"I have had two pros bowlin