"Thanks."
Stover smiled a little at this unconscious avowal of his own estimate, rose, picked out his favorite pipe, and said:
"I don't care so much—there's a reason. Well, let's get into the mess."
The four went together, over toward the junior fence, already swarming.
"Ten minutes of five," said Hungerford, looking at the clock that each had seen.
"Yes."
Some one stopped Stover to wish him good luck. He looked down on a diminutive figure in large spectacles, trying to recall, who was saying to him:
"I—I wanted to wish you the best."
"Oh, it's Wookey," said Stover suddenly. He shook hands, rather troubled. "Well, boy, there's not much chance for me."