“I’m no better up than you are,” said the other.
“You know you’re going to win,” repeated Oliver.
“I only wish I did,” said Wraysford, with a sigh.
“Why,” pursued Oliver, evidently bent on a melancholy tack, “I assure you, Wray, I’ve forgotten half even of what I did know. I was going over some of those brutal Roman History dates in bed last night, for instance, and I positively couldn’t remember one. Then I tried the map of Greece, but I was still worse there; I couldn’t remember where one single place was except Athens and Corinth, and I’m sure I used to be pretty well up in that.”
“I expect you were half asleep at the time,” suggested his friend.
“No, I wasn’t; I couldn’t sleep a wink. I say, Wray, wouldn’t it be jolly if we only knew now what the questions are going to be on Monday?”
“Why don’t you go and ask the Doctor?” said Wraysford, laughing; “he’d be delighted to tell you.”
“What a humbug you are, Wray! I say, suppose we shut up work now and have a turn on the river. I’m certain it will do us more good than cracking our skulls here.”
“Just what I had been thinking. I’m game, and it can’t make much difference.”
“I suppose Loman is grinding up to the last?”