“Cherry, of course.”
Harry laughed slyly. “Cherry, of course! Who else? Staying! Lorie’s taken a room for her in Bath Place. You know—between Holywell and Hell Passage.”
“Which room?”
Harry became serious. “Look here, old chap, what d’you want to know for?”
“Because i’m going to her.”
“Oh, are you?”
“Yes, to-night. You know what she is—may be gone before breakfast.”
“Here, you’d better come to bed.”
As they strolled across quad to Peter’s room, Harry asked him, “Whatever put such a mad scheme into your head? You can’t get out of college—the gate’s shut. If you did and got caught, you’d be sent down for a certainty.”
When the door had closed behind them, Peter didn’t sit down—he didn’t start to undress. He went to the window, threw it open and leant out. “I’m going, Harry, and I shan’t get caught, either. You’ve got to help. It’s a twenty-foot drop. If I knot my sheets together they’ll be long enough. You wait here till I come back and haul me up.”