"Afraid you'll have to, Jeff--twice over," he replied. "I've got to go down home that week-end; beastly nuisance! I was going with some fellows over to Richmond--stag-party; but the mater writes that she's asked Miss Soames, so I suppose I shall have to be there to help out--confound it!" I opened my door and let him into the red and green. "Oh?" I remarked casually. "Nice change for you. You'll be all the fitter for the exams. Don't tell _me_ about your stag-parties though. I know 'em; you'd take jolly good care not to pick the place with the plainest waitresses for tea, what? _I_ know you!... But if I were you I'd go steady for a week or two, my boy, that Method paper'll be harder than you think, I warn you!" "I'm watching it!" he replied cheerfully. "By Jove! Jeff, I'd forgotten what a noisy pitch this of yours is! What on earth makes you stay here?" "Oh, I don't know," I replied carelessly, applying a match to the wick of my lamp and replacing the chimney. "As I say, you're pampered. The place is all right. I don't do much except sleep here. It's a bit cold, though. I'd keep my coat on if I were you----" "Wouldn't be much sleep for me here," he remarked, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I should want a good stiff drink before I slept much in this racket!" As I placed the lamp globe on its brass ring I glanced covertly at him. It was a green interval, and his face looked as if he stood by a chemist's window near the big pear-shaped green globe, while his waistcoat was turned to a black purple, with one brass button gleaming green as a cat's eye. Then the red came again, and the lamp flame crept up. I went to the little cupboard where I kept my few cups and saucers and plates. I filled my kettle at the tap on the landing, put it on the half-crown oil-stove, and began to prepare our feast. In a quarter of an hour it was ready--tea, the baked potatoes, and a wedge of butter apiece. We ate it, he sitting on my bed, I in my sagging and string-mended old wicker chair. I saw quite plainly that already he wanted to be off, and would stay no longer than the barest decency demanded; but he had got to eat that pauper's meal before I let him go, and there were my forty-nine other reasons for having got him up there. One of these other reasons had, during the last hour, taken complete shape in my mind. Its consequences would have been impossible to foresee, but as far as it yet went, I thought it crafty enough. I filched another look at him; he was burning the roof of his mouth with hot potato as he lolled against my bed foot; and I judged it time to put my plan into execution. I pushed my own plate away and sank back into my lifeless old wicker chair. He had turned his coat collar up by this time. My plan kept me warm. "You're a lucky beggar, you know, Archie," I sighed heavily. He had moved, to set down his cup of untasted tea on the floor. He looked up. "How?" he asked. I settled myself farther back.