"I've seen him after supper," said Maddox. He was obliged to speak
rather loudly, because of the noise that came up from the overcrowded
dining-room.
"Well, then, how did he strike you?"
Maddox's eyes curled with limpid, infantile devilry.
"Well, I daresay he might be a bit of a bounder when he's sober, but
he's a perfect little gentleman when he's drunk. Softens him down
somehow."
"_In vino veritas_--a true gentleman at heart."
"One of Nature's gentlemen. _I_ know 'em," said Stables.
"One of Art's gentlemen," interposed Jewdwine severely, "and a very
fine gentleman too, if you take him that way."
Jewdwine raised his head from his letter and looked round uneasily.
Personalities were not altogether to his taste; besides, he was really
anxious to finish that letter. He caught sight of a back at the other
window.
"I think," said he quietly, "this conversation had better cease."
The owner of the back had moved, a little ostentatiously. He now got
up and crossed the room. The back was still towards the group of
talkers. Jewdwine followed its passage. He was fascinated. He gasped.
He could have sworn to that back anywhere, with its square but slender
shoulders, its defiant swing from the straight hips, the head tossed a
little backwards as if to correct the student's tendency to stoop. He
looked from the back to Maddox. Maddox could not see what he saw, but
his face reflected the horror of Jewdwine's.
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