“I doubt it wouldn’t seem very genteel to them,” he thought, without, however, a trace of bitterness.
They began to talk about the prospects of the Cambridge Boat, and Guy, who prided himself on being able to talk knowledgeably on such matters, eagerly joined in with aphorisms on “form.”
“I say, Munroe, we’re nowhere in this show, are we?” said Rory, with a friendly grin; then suddenly remembering that he had no legitimate cause for assuming that David was not a University man (Rory prided himself on his tact), he added hastily, “mere sodgers like you and me.”
“I—I understand that the late Dr. Arnold sent his son to Oxford instead of Cambridge, because—because at the latter University they didn’t study Aristotle,” said David.
He genuinely wanted to know about this, because recently his own thoughts—by way of St. Thomas Aquinas—had been very much occupied with Aristotle; but, being shy, his voice sounded aggressive.
“Arnold would,” said the other Arnold coldly.
“But—but Dr. Arnold was surely a great man, wasn’t he?”
This time David’s voice was unmistakably timid.
The others exchanged smiles.
“Was he? That’s the question,” said Arnold.