'Hush, Pamela!' Eric Gwatkin exclaimed almost harshly. He could not bear to hear his sister speak of Edgell in that way. 'You don't know what you are saying. That was an accident, and he had been ill. If you only knew Edgell, you would not say such things. He is the best and noblest fellow in the world, and he is the dearest friend I have.'
'They say he is to head the list this year; that he is to be Senior Wrangler,' Pamela said in her cool, contemptuous way.
'Yes, he is sure to head the list. There is no one to touch him in the 'Varsity.'
Pamela smiled.
Eric had forgotten what rumour was saying about her—that it would be a neck-and-neck race.
'He is working hard, then?' she said indifferently.
What could it matter to her if he were reading hard or raving on his couch with delirium tremens?
'Yes; he's working like a horse—like a giant, rather. He can do six days' work in one every day. No one can have any chance with him.'
Pamela didn't ask Eric to have any tea, and he went away as he came. She didn't even go to the front door with him. She said good-bye, and sat down to the eight-legged table among her books, and left him to find his way out by himself.
He knew his way pretty well. It was not the first time he had been there. When he was nearly at the end of the first passage a door opened and a girl came out and stopped him. It was Lucy.