“He wants to bind the college together. He wants to link us to the beefy set.”
“I do like Hornblower,” he protested. “I don’t try.”
“And Hornblower tries to like you.”
“That part doesn’t matter.”
“But he does try to like you. He tries not to despise you. It is altogether a most public-spirited affair.”
“Tilliard started them,” said Widdrington. “Tilliard thinks it such a pity the college should be split into sets.”
“Oh, Tilliard!” said Ansell, with much irritation. “But what can you expect from a person who’s eternally beautiful? The other night we had been discussing a long time, and suddenly the light was turned on. Every one else looked a sight, as they ought. But there was Tilliard, sitting neatly on a little chair, like an undersized god, with not a curl crooked. I should say he will get into the Foreign Office.”
“Why are most of us so ugly?” laughed Rickie.
“It’s merely a sign of our salvation—merely another sign that the college is split.”
“The college isn’t split,” cried Rickie, who got excited on this subject with unfailing regularity. “The college is, and has been, and always will be, one. What you call the beefy set aren’t a set at all. They’re just the rowing people, and naturally they chiefly see each other; but they’re always nice to me or to any one. Of course, they think us rather asses, but it’s quite in a pleasant way.”