That night Frank was the most miserable fellow in Yale. It did not seem any fault of his that had brought him into such a wretched predicament, and yet he was thoroughly disgusted with himself.
He could not study, he could do nothing but think. Sometimes he was determined to go to Inza and ask her to release him from his promise, and then he would think how his enemies would say he had been driven into it.
Then came another thought. If he were to come out now and offer to fill a place on the eleven, would he be accepted? He had fallen so in the esteem of Forrest that it was quite likely the captain would refuse to take him on the team.
He tried to devise some way of setting himself aright, but could think of none.
Had any one told him two days before that he could be so utterly miserable, he would have laughed at them.
Only a short time before this turn in events he had been the best known and most popular student in the college. His fame had spread all over New Haven and gone abroad to other college places. He was regarded with awe as a great traveler and a wonderful athlete.
Now—well, it was different now!
Finding he could not rest, study or think of anything but his wretched position, Frank went out for a walk. He tried to tire himself out physically, so that weariness of body would force his mind to rest. Miles he tramped, far out into the country. He drove along like one walking on a wager, paying no attention to the frosty air which nipped his nose and ears.
It was eleven o'clock when Frank was passing Morey's on his way to South Middle. In front of the place he paused. He remembered the many jolly times he had enjoyed in there. He remembered when he was the chief one of any little circle that might gather in that famous resort. Now he felt like an outcast—an outsider.
Three students came out. They did not see him, and they were chatting and laughing merrily. He watched them as they strolled away, his heart growing heavier and heavier.