"Victor," said Gell, "that's the first unkind word you have ever said to me."
"Alick," said Stowell, "it shall be the last."
The wash of the tide (it was near to the flood) on the stones of the shore, the monotonous blowing of the fog-horn and the deliberate ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece were the only sounds they heard except the irregular heave of their own breathing.
The two men were alternately watching the fingers of the clock and gazing down at the pattern of the carpet. At a few minutes to ten Stowell got up and said,
"I must go now."
"I'll walk down the road with you," said Gell.
They walked side by side in the mist until they came to the ruins of Hango Hill (where long before Alick had had his fight with the townsmen) and were breast to breast with King William's College.
"You had better go back now. We must not be seen together," said Stowell.
They stood for some moments without speaking. The clock in the school tower was striking ten. The school itself was in darkness. Another generation of boys were lying asleep in it now.
"I suppose we've got to say good-bye," said Gell.