"Handsome?"
"Remarkably so. Probably the handsomest (he was going to say 'girl,' but said 'lady') I ever saw in my life."
"H'm!" and he sat silent a moment, and gave Charles time to think. "I am glad he has married her, and before to-morrow, too."
"Well," said Hornby again, "we shall go down in the drag to-morrow. Ferrers will drive, he says. I suppose he had better; he drives better than I. Make the other two lads come in livery, but come in black trousers yourself. Wear your red waistcoat; you can button your coat over it, if it is necessary."
"Shall I wear my cockade, sir?"
"Yes; that won't matter. Can you fight?"
Charles said to himself, "I suppose we shall be in Queer Street to-morrow, then;" but he rather liked the idea. "I used to like it," said he aloud. "I don't think I care about it now. Last year, at Oxford, I and three other University men, three Pauls and a Brazenose, had a noble stramash on Folly-bridge. That is the last fighting I have seen."
"What College were you at?" said Hornby, looking out at the window; "Brazenose?"
"Paul's," said Charles without thinking.
"Then you are the man Welter was telling me about—Charles Ravenshoe."