Poor Kit’s heart was in his mouth; it seemed to him to be thumping like a sledge-hammer. He had a momentary wild hope that he would not be able to find Tony. But yes,—there he was, just taking leave of Ned Clavering and starting across the campus alone. Kit hurried after him, feeling as though his legs would scarcely carry him another inch.
“I say—Tony!” he called at last, his voice husky and strange.
Deering stopped, turned, but did not recognize him. “What is it? Who’s calling?”
“It’s me—Kit. Wait a second, will you?”
Tony’s heart was beating wildly too, for he divined what was coming; by the time Kit reached him his hand was out.
“What’s your hurry?” cried Kit, grabbing the extended hand and wringing it.
“I’m not in a hurry. Are you?”
“No, not a bit.” Then awkwardly, “Well, what are you going to do?”
“Not a thing—loaf—come and do it with me.”
“I’m your man. Where shall we go?”