Hathaway ever saw! Either he's just struck oil or else"
Jock looked around. He had no difficulty in identifying the couple. They were in the row behind him, two or three seats to the left, a sophomore named MacLellan and Winifred James, a "college widow" whom Jock knew slightly. Winifred was whispering the rest of her sentence into MacLellan's ear, and the eyes of both were fixed, not on Eunice's coat, but very sharply and sagaciously on Jock himself. As he faced them they drew apart in haste and nodded to him with an assumption of blandest innocence. Winifred even gave a little salute and said, "Hi there, Jock!" But Jock was not deceived. "My God," he told himself, "they think I bought Eunice's coat! That's what she was whispering—that I bought it—oh my God!"
He turned back again, and the instant he had done so instinct told him that Winifred said, "Heavens, do you think he heard me?" He fancied he could almost see her saying it. . . . He shot a quick side glance at Eunice and noted that she appeared quite unconscious. He was glad of this; but the afternoon was utterly ruined nevertheless. Even the team's victory failed to rouse in him more than a fleeting enthusiasm.
He took Eunice home and left her summarily on the bungalow's porch. She implored him to come in. "Why, you must, Jock! Brad will be so disappointed if he gets home and finds you didn't stop! He'll want to talk ovah the game with you—he's always so excited after a victory, and especially today, when he didn't think they'd win. And I've got tea! Please, Jock"
"Sorry," Jock said firmly, "but I absolutely can't, Eunice. Not this time. I've got to see a man."
There was truth in this, and the man whom he felt
