A curious expression came into the young man's face as he echoed the other's laugh with a trace of confusion.
"A fair wife and a dark one? Porridge and ... Chianti!"
He paid his fee and went out into the London fog.
CHAPTER II
McTaggart walked down Harley Street, his blue eyes full of light, still hugging the consciousness of a new lease of life.
High above him an orange sun was swung in the misty heavens, putting to shame the wistful gleam of the pale lamps below, with their air of straggling revellers caught by the dawn. A carriage rolled down the street and was met by a passing taxi, and then, as he moved forward rejoicing to himself, into the foggy calm came a sudden stir of life: the sound of young voices, of laughter and light feet.
From under a gloomy portico a crowd of girls swept forth, gathered in groups of twos and threes and dissolved into the fog, chattering and linking arms, swinging bags of books, north and south they scattered with a sweet note of youth.
And at the sight McTaggart came to a sudden halt, conscious that he had received the answer to his prayer; that steadily growing wish for the presence of a friend to share in the new-born exuberance of his mood.
He crossed the street quickly and joined in the crowd, receiving demure glances of studied unconcern and here and there a frown from elderly duennas whose acid displeasure added to his amusement. But cool, and imperturbable, he proceeded to run the gauntlet until on the steps of the College itself he saw a lonely figure busily engaged in tightening the strap that held together exercises and books.