about sunlit
flanks or impassable streams? Rickie rebuked his own groveling soul, and
turned his eyes away from the night, which had led him to such absurd
conclusions.
The fire was dancing, and the shadow of Ansell, who stood close up to
it, seemed to dominate the little room. He was still talking, or rather
jerking, and he was still lighting matches and dropping their ends upon
the carpet. Now and then he would make a motion with his feet as if he
were running quickly backward upstairs, and would tread on the edge
of the fender, so that the fire-irons went flying and the buttered-bun
dishes crashed against each other in the hearth. The other philosophers
were crouched in odd shapes on the sofa and table and chairs, and one,
who was a little bored, had crawled to the piano and was timidly trying
the Prelude to Rhinegold with his knee upon the soft pedal. The air was
heavy with good tobacco-smoke and the pleasant warmth of tea, and as
Rickie became more sleepy the events of the day seemed to float one by
one before his acquiescent eyes. In the morning he had read Theocritus,
whom he believed to be the greatest of Greek poets; he had lunched with
a merry don and had tasted Zwieback biscuits; then he had walked with
people he liked, and had walked just long enough; and now his room was
full of other people whom he liked, and when they left he would go and
have supper with Ansell, whom he liked as well as any one. A year ago
he had known none of these joys. He had crept cold and friendless
and ignorant out of a great public school, preparing for a silent and
solitary journey, and praying as a highest favour that he might be left
alone. Cambridge had not answered his prayer. She had taken and soothed
him, and warmed him, and had laughed at him a little, saying that he
must not be so tragic yet awhile, for his boyhood had been but a dusty
corridor that led to the spacious halls of youth. In one year he had
made many friends and learnt much, and he might learn even more if he
could but concentrate his attention on that cow.
The fire had died down, and in the gloom the man by the piano ventured
to ask what would happen if an objective cow had a subjective calf.
Ansell gave an angry sigh, and at that moment there was a tap on the
door.
"Come in!" said Rickie.
The door opened. A tall young woman stood framed in the light that fell
from the passage.
"Ladies!" whispered every-one in great agitation.
"Yes?" he said n
|