"I have been here two years," he began, "and I know that it is impossible for us to be friends; and when you have thought it over you will think as I do. My father teaches fencing and boxing in London; I was educated at a school you never heard of; I am helped here by an old gentleman who discovered that I was more or less intelligent. He has a mania for experiments, and I am his latest hobby. Have I said enough to put you off, or must I go on?"
"I suppose I can please myself when I choose my friends," I said.
"That you most certainly can't do here," he answered. "Let me alone and I won't bother you any more. Good-night, your bell is going for dinner."
He walked straight out of my room, and before he had closed the door Jack Ward rushed in.
"Who is that man?" he asked at once.
"I am not going to tell you," I answered, for I wanted time to think.
"Well he is a funny-looking Johnny anyway, looks as pale as a codfish and as solemn as a boiled owl. You do collect an odd set of friends; there's that man Foster, who seems to be deaf and dumb, and Murray, who gives me the blues whenever I see him, and then this apparition."
"You can just shut up jawing," I answered, as I hunted round for my gown; "when I want you to criticize my friends I will tell you. Foster's worth about ten billion of you any day."
I was very angry, but Ward only laughed and told me to hurry up unless I wanted the soup to be cold.
"We are going to have a little roulette in my rooms to-night," he said, as we walked across the quad. "Will you come?"