"A man of sixty-two—particularly one who has long lived in the uninspired circle surrounding a university—has not the quick wit of youth. I m afraid I don't—but no matter. It s very odd, though."
He permitted Mr. Magee to escort him into the hall, and to direct his search for a bed that should serve him through the scant remainder of the night. Overcoats and rugs were pressed into serv ice as cover. Mr. Bland blithely assisted.
"If I see any newspaper reporters," he assured the professor on parting, "I'll damage more than their derbies."
"Thank you," replied the old man heartily. "You are very kind. To-morrow we shall become better acquainted. Good night."
The two young men came out and stood in the hallway. Mr. Magee spoke in a low tone.
"Forgive me," he said, "for stealing your Arabella."
"Take her and welcome," said Bland. "She was beginning to bore me, anyhow. And I'm not in your class as an actor." He came close to Ma gee. In the dim light that streamed out from
