"I go back for my last year in the Latin School in Boston."
"And then?"
"I go to Harvard."
"Putting yourself through?"
"Only partly, sir."
"Friends?"
"Yes, sir."
The questions ceased. The face, which even a boy like Tom could see to be that of a strong man who must have suffered terribly, grew pensive. When the eyes were bent toward the floor Tom took note of a pair of bushy, outstanding, horizontal eyebrows, oddly like his own.
The reverie ended abruptly. Some thought seemed to be dismissed. It seemed to be dismissed with both decision and relief. But the man held out his hand.
"Good-by."