LOVE AND MR. LEWISHAM
and the most beautiful grey trousers. His conceptions of competition enlarged. The precise young man by a motion of his eyes directed the newcomer's attention to Lewisham's waterproof collar, and was answered by raised eyebrows and a faint tightening of the mouth. "That bounder at Castleford has answered me," said the new-comer in a fine rich voice. "Is he any bally good?"
When the bounder at Castleford had been discussed Lewisham presented his paper, and the precise young man with his eye still fixed on the waterproof collar took the document in the manner of one who reaches across a gulf. "I doubt if we shall be able to do anything for you," he said reassuringly. "But an English mastership may chance to be vacant. Science doesn't count for much in our sort of schools, you know. Classics and good games—that's our sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"Good games, good form, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"You don't happen to be a public-school boy?" asked the precise young man.
"No," said Lewisham.
"Where were you educated?"
Lewisham's face grew hot. "Does that matter?" he asked with his eye on the exquisite grey trousering.
"In our sort of school—decidedly. It's a question of tone, you know."
"I see," said Lewisham, beginning to realise
440
