As term went on Paul and Stubbs took to going for walks together, over Mesopotamia to Old Marston and Beckley. One afternoon, quite lighthearted at the fresh weather, and their long walk, and their tea, Stubbs signed Randall Cantuar in the visitors' book.
Paul rejoined the League of Nations Union and the O.S.C.U. On one occasion he and Stubbs and some other friends went to the prison to visit the criminals there and sing part‑songs to them.
'It opens the mind, said Stubbs, 'to see all sides of life. How those unfortunate men appreciated our singing!
One day in Blackwell's bookshop Paul found a stout volume, which, the assistant told him, was rapidly becoming a best‑seller. It was called Mother Wales, by Augustus Fagan. Paul bought it and took it back with him. Stubbs had already read it.
'Most illuminating, he said. 'The hospital statistics are terrible. Do you think it would be a good idea to organize a joint debate with Jesus on the subject? The book was dedicated To my wife, a wedding present'. It was eloquently written. When he had read it Paul put it on his shelves next to Dean Stanley's Eastern Church.
One other incident recalled momentarily Paul's past life.
One day at the beginning of his second year, as Paul and Stubbs were bicycling down the High as from one lecture to another, they nearly ran into an open Rolls-Royce that swung out of Oriel Street at a dangerous speed. In the back, a heavy fur rug over his knees, sat Philbrick. He turned round as he passed and waved a gloved hand to Paul over the hood.
'Hullo! he said; 'hullo! How are you! Come and look me up one day. I'm living on the river ‑ Skindle's.
Then the car disappeared down the High Street, and Paul went on to the lecture.
'Who was your opulent frient? asked Stubbs, rather impresed.