When luncheon was over, they went back to the other room. It was true that, as Jack had said, Howard managed to make something pleasant out of his rooms. The study was a big place looking into the court; it was mostly lined with books, the bookcases going round the room in a band about three feet from the floor and about seven feet high. It was a theory of Howard's that you ought to be able to see all your books without either stooping or climbing. There was a big knee-hole table and half a dozen chairs. There was an old portrait in oils over the mantelpiece, several arm-chairs, one with a book-rest. Half a dozen photographs stood on the mantelpiece, and there was practically nothing else in the room but carpets and curtains. Jack lit a cigarette, sank into a chair, and presently said, "You must get awfully sick of the undergraduates, I should think, day after day?"
"No, I don't," said Howard; "in fact I must confess that I like work and feel dull without it—but that shows that I am an elderly man."
"Yes, I don't care about my work," said Jack, "and I think I shall get rather tired of being up here before I have done with it. It's rather pointless, I think. Of course it's quite amusing; but I want to do something real, make some real money, and talk about business. I shall go into the city, I think."
"I don't believe you care about anything but money," said Howard; "you are a barbarian!"
"No, I don't care about money," said Jack; "only one must have enough—what I like are REAL things. I couldn't go on just learning things up till I was twenty-three, and then teaching them till I was sixty-three. Of course I think it is awfully good of you to do it, but I can't think why or how you do it."
"I suppose I don't care about real things," said Howard.
"No, I can't quite make you out," said Jack with a smiling air, "because of course you are quite different from the other dons—nobody would suppose you were a don—everyone says that."
"It's very kind of you to say so," said Howard, "but I am not sure that it is a compliment—a tradesman ought to be a tradesman, and not to be ashamed of it. I'm a sophist, of course."
"What's a sophist?" said Jack. "Oh, I know. You lectured about the sophists last term. I don't remember what they were exactly, but I thought the lecture awfully good—quite amusing! They were a sort of parsons, weren't they?"
"You are a wonderful person, Jack!" said Howard, laughing. "I declare I have never had such extraordinary things said to me as you have said in the last half-hour."