"Do you think she's married him?" asked the undergraduate.
"Who knows what girls will do?" said Bob. "Don't you remember the black-eyed one in the pastry-cook's at Harrow who wouldn't look at you and was in love with that beast Black?"
Harcourt did remember, but changed the conversation as quickly as possible.
"This fellow is at All Saints," he said. "I dare say, they'd let a groom in there."
"Let's go and find him," said Bob. "Poor old Bunting will be sick to see me. I'm very sorry for him if he is a presumptuous beast. It will be very awkward for the family. But we must know. The uncertainty is killing my grandmother, and Baker says it's always best to know the worst at once. Baker's the best judge of dogs and horses I know. He was a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers. Oh, I told you that!"
And when they got into the High Street, they ran right into Plant, who smiled a sickly smile and said he had come up to have a look at Oxford.
"I say, Mr. Plant, what's the matter with your clothes?" asked Bob. "Have you fallen downstairs?"
Plant murmured something unintelligible and hurried away, leaving Bob staring.
"That's one of 'em, Harcourt," he said to his friend. "He's a millionaire."
"Then I think he might afford a hat without a dint in it," replied Harcourt.