"Think over what I've said to you."
"I will."
"A man is known by his friends; remember that, Stover, if you don't anything else!"
"It's awfully good of you."
"I like you, Dink," said Le Baron, shaking hands warmly; "now you know the game, go in and win."
"It's awfully good of you," said Stover aimlessly. He stood watching Le Baron's strong, aristocratic figure go swinging across the dim campus in a straight, undeviating, well-calculated path.
"It's awfully good of him," he said mechanically, "awfully good. What a wonder he is!"
And yet, and yet, he could not define the new feeling—he was but barely conscious of it; was it rebellion or was it a lurking disappointment?
He stood alone, looking at the new world. It was no longer the world of the honest day. It was brilliant, fascinating, alluring, awakening strange, poignant emotions—but it was another world, and the way to it had just been shown him.
He turned abruptly and went toward his room, troubled, wondering why he was so troubled, vainly seeking the reason, knowing not that it lay in the destruction of a fragile thing—his first illusion.