“Yes. But how——?” Stuart found it disconcerting, having met and insulted a nameless spirit in ghostland, to be suddenly, and by this same spirit, accosted as Heron of Balliol.
“They pointed you out to me last year, when you came up for the Greek plays. You were the big classical man of your time, weren’t you? They still talk about your double first.”
Stuart looked pleased. “Which was your college?”
“Magdalen. I’m only just down. I say, may I run over again one evening for a talk? My name’s Levi, Sebastian Levi. I’m staying at the Boscombe Hotel.”
“Certainly; delighted; perhaps you’ll introduce your fiancée.” And it was a pity that no one was by to twinkle amusement at the well-bred decorum which had descended upon the antagonists.
“That’s my bungalow, the one that looks like an inverted whale.”
“Don’t you find it dull?”
“Passably. I sail a good bit. Care to join me next time the wind’s foul enough?”
“I’ve never done any sailing; but if I shan’t be in the way——”
“Not at all; you shall be passenger.” Carefully ignoring their fantastic behaviour of a few moments back, they strolled together across the shore, and over the sand-dunes, to where the lamps of Sebastian’s two-seater trembled athwart the road.