Hugh, however, was surer of himself than he had been the first term, and although he had no reason to be proud of the grades he received, he was not particularly ashamed of them.
He and Carl left the same day but by different trains. They had agreed to room together again in Surrey 19; so they didn't feel that the parting for the summer was very important.
"You'll write, won't you, old man?"
"Sure, Hugh—surest thing you know. Say, it don't seem possible that our freshman year's over already. Why, hell, Hugh, we're sophomores."
"So we are! What do you know about that?" Hugh's eyes shone. "Gosh!"
Carl looked at his watch. "Hell, I've got to beat it." He picked up his suit-case, dropped it, shook hands vigorously with Hugh, snatched up his suit-case, and was off with a final, "Good-by, Hugh, old boy," sounding behind him.
Hugh settled back into a chair. He had half an hour to wait.
"A sophomore.... Gosh!"