“RENAN,” HE REPLIED FIRMLY
Gaveston ffoulis had failed in Divvers! Was it possible? There was an uproar. Mongo, seated with the privileged spectators, had difficulty in preventing Lady Julia from making a personal appeal to the examiners, and David was similarly engaged with Lady Blandula.
But, meanwhile, Gaveston himself was strolling back to Malmaison Lodge, with the glow of conscious triumph all over his distinguished features.…
Seven o’clock also came. But it was a desolate company that sate them down to the toothsome viands and victuals which Mrs. Grimaldi, all unwitting of the catastrophe, had prepared. Conversation was faltering in the extreme, and all Mongo’s talk of the successes of Newdigate and Postlethwaite fell on empty air—who could forget that these triumphs were all obfuscated by the disaster of that evening. The party, so long anticipated as the social event of the Oxford year, limped along until at last the iced melon was removed.
At last Mongo broached the dread topic.
“Gaveston,” he began almost nervously, “of course it’s impossible now, after—well, after what’s happened. But I should tell you that the College had empowered me to offer you a fellowship.”