"How long have you been here?"
"A month."
"How long are you going to stay?"
"Oh, I shall start applying when I've put in four months. Might get away at the end of six, then."
"That's my idea, too. They've got some good plant here, though."
So they lapsed into technicalities; and as they strolled back, the dingy houses and the smoke and grime were all forgotten. Community of interest was drawing these two young men very close together. They sat up late into the night smoking and comparing notes of what they had seen and wished to see in the engineering world. As they went to bed, Carstairs passed Darwen's door.
"Oh! if you come in half a minute, I'll show you those drawings," he said.
He went in, and while Darwen rummaged about in a big trunk, Carstairs glanced round his bedroom. The walls were hung with framed photographs of football teams and cricket teams, school teams and town teams; Darwen's handsome features and sturdy limbs were prominent in all. Carstairs examined them with keen interest. "You're a rugger man, I see," he said, with great appreciation.
"Yes, are you?"
"Oh, yes. I play, but I haven't got an international cap, or—" Carstairs mentioned the name of one of the teams on the wall. Darwen stood up with a roll of engineering drawings in his hand. He flushed slightly with pleasure. "I only played for them one season," he explained, "left the town at the end of it."