Tressor put Paul at his ease. He was so big and smiling; he talked so easily; it was all so natural to him. He was on Paul's right, of course, and Paul could look past him, down the table, at them all, Manning at the other end, glancing up now and again, with a reassuring nod. Judson, by the way, was there, for he had insisted on admission to the club and had turned out the coolest critic of them all. Paul smiled to see how he enjoyed himself; and he drank his unaccustomed wine and leaned back in his chair at last, when he had made his speech, with all self-consciousness gone from him. But it was hard to sit still and listen to Tressor. The chief guest of the evening rose to respond to the toast in his slightly heavy way, but he smiled down the disordered table and met the eyes turned to him as if he were no more than an undergraduate himself. He talked of the college and of literature, as he was in duty bound to do; he introduced an anecdote or two; at last he turned slightly to Paul. Well, at any rate, they had reason to hope great things from the president. He might perhaps say there that from the first he had detected in the verses the president had been good enough to show him, the true mark, the real spirit of a poet. He was very grateful for the part he had been able to play in advising and reading, but it was genuine recognition that had led to the acceptance for publication of the book which they all expected so eagerly. It was a first book, and a youthful book, but he was not exaggerating when he said that he looked forward to the day when they would all be proud of having been among the first to recognise the author's undoubted genius and greet his first appearance in print. He anticipated that, in the days to come, they would remember this night with real pride. He thanked the club for having invited him to share in that. They had been good enough to say that they were honoured by his presence, but he assured them that he felt honoured to be there. They toasted him. They toasted Paul. They toasted each other. Excitement, the toasts, the ring of friendly faces, the hot room, his own achievement--all these things intoxicated Paul. Tressor left. Donaldson proposed a music hall; Paul hardly realised that he agreed. In Leicester Square, people smiled as they tumbled out of their taxis, and the lights were blurred. Paul scarcely knew where he was till he found himself in the stalls.