“Yes. Any objections?”
Tom was silent a moment. He was struggling with a strange sensation.
“Well,” asked Phil, turning and facing his chum—Sid was out of the room—“any objections?”
“Of course not,” answered Tom slowly. “I took her last term, and—er—I was rather counting on——”
“You were going to take her again this year,” interrupted Phil, “but you waited too long. Sorry I cut you out, old man. No hard feelings, I hope?”
“No—no,” answered Tom hesitatingly. “Of course not,” he added more genially. “I was too slow, that’s all.”
“You’ll have to ask some one else,” went on Phil. “Are you sure you don’t mind, old chap?” and he came over and stood beside his chum.
Tom did not answer for a few seconds. There was a strained quality in his voice when he replied, as cheerfully as he could:
“Of course not. You’re first in war, first in football, and first in—the affairs with the ladies,” he paraphrased.
“Whom will you take?” persisted Phil.