“Well, say, couldn’t you put me next to that stunning girl with the dark eyes?”
“I might if we were better acquainted,” said Chester. “Let’s go up to the smoking room and have a little chat. There’s plenty of time to dance later. Come on, old man.”
He passed his arm through that of Hanks, and led the fellow away. They mounted the stairs and entered the smoking room, where they found one of Casper Steele’s chums, Fred Harmford, enjoying a cigarette. Harmford was the only fellow in the smoking room.
“Hello, Arlington!” called Fred. “Going to smoke? Have a coffin nail out of my collection.”
He proffered his cigarettes.
“No, thank you,” smiled Chester. “I’ve cut those things out. I prefer cigars when I smoke now, and I’m careful not to hit them up too hard. Getting back into form, you understand. Expect to enter Yale in the fall, and I’m going in for athletics.”
By this time he had found Steele’s well-filled cigar urn, and offered it to his new companion.
“Excuse me,” said Hanks, as he took a cigar, “did I get your name right when that fellow spoke to you? Is your name Arlington?”
“I believe it is.”
“Any relation to the beautiful girl with the glorious dark eyes?”