'I shan't be able to go with you,' he said, in a thick, abrupt voice, addressing Earwaker but not regarding him. 'Good-bye!'
The other offered his hand and, without speaking, walked away.
'Prize-dye at the Collige, they tell me,' pursued Godwin's relative, looking at a cluster of people that passed. 'What 'ave you took?'
'One or two class-prizes,' replied the student, his eyes on the ground. 'Shall we walk to my lodgings?'
'I thought you might like to walk me over the show. But pr'aps you're in a 'urry?'
'No, no. But there's nothing particular to see. I think the lecture-rooms are closed by now.'
'Oo's the gent as stands there?—the figger, I mean.'
'Sir Job Whitelaw, founder of the College.'
'Job, eh? And was you a-goin' 'ome to yer tea, Godwin?'
'Yes.'