George glanced at the surprised features which, in a masculine fashion, were reminiscent of Sylvia; and beyond he saw, in the rear seat of the automobile, Sylvia herself, lovelier, more removed than ever. Betty Alston sat at her side. Evidently neither had observed the encounter, for they laughed and chatted, probably about the terror-stricken Freshmen.
George swallowed hard.
"I heard you were going to be here. I wanted to keep out of your way."
"But why?" Lambert laughed. "You have a scholastic appearance. You never mean——"
"I am taking my entrance examinations," George said. "I want to make good here."
He looked straight into Lambert's eyes. His voice became incisive, threatening.
"I will make good. Don't try giving me away. Don't you tell Miss Alston where I came from——"
"Yeh. The big fellow! Morton! Stringham and Green say he's going to be a wonder."
It drifted to them from the passing youths.
Lambert whistled. The mockery left his voice.