The three friends foregathered in the Court, Donaldson chaffing Strether whom he had christened "Gus" by way of a comical allusion to the other's very undandified dress. He himself wore socks and ties that proclaimed themselves, a Norfolk jacket of a light tweed and a fancy waistcoat. As they went, Paul was a little silent. He was wondering whether he liked Donaldson. And if so, why? He was aware that the meeting with Hartley had been significant, that the two would never get on together, that he was proposing to get on with both. It was puzzling.... By Jesus Bridge they chanced to meet a girl. Donaldson smiled at her, after the manner of his kind, and she smiled back at him after the manner of hers. Strether snorted after a fashion of his own. Donaldson took up his parable. "I say, Kestern, did you see that? Gus, that girl made eyes at you. Yes, by Jove, she's looking back at you. Oh I say, Gussie, this won't do, my boy! It's those new brogues of yours. I've seen her along here before, and I bet she's on the lookout for you. Here, you aren't tubbing; go and pick her up, and tell us all about it at tea." Strether snorted again. "Opprobrious conduct," he muttered stormily. Donaldson roared with laughter and Paul could not help smiling. Strether loved long words, and it was characteristic of him that he made odd noises. He retorted now, fiercely. "Don't bray like an ass," he said. "Do you want all the street to hear you?" "Gus, you'll be the death of me! Opprobrious conduct! But did you see her ankles--pretty little ankles and a neat little waist. I must say you've got quite good taste." "Some hussy of a shop-girl," growled the other. "Disgusting, I call it. Why can't you leave females alone?" Paul chuckled again. "Come on you two," he said. "Let him alone, Donaldson. We've still to change, and it's past two now." Next day the intrigue so lightly begun developed. Manning had consented to tea with Paul, and Donaldson, who was there, told him the story with certain emendations natural to him. Manning was highly amused. "Write Strether a letter," he suggested, "pretending that it comes from the girl and asking him to meet her on Jesus Bridge some night. Very likely he'll bite out of sheer funk of what she might do if he does not. You can go and watch. He'll walk up and down snorting. It'd be rather a joke." "By Jove, we will," cried Donaldson. "It'll be no end of a rag. But look here, he knows our handwriting. Will you write it?" "Yes, if you like. Give me some paper, Kestern." Paul got up for the materials with some reluctance. "But I like old Strether," he objected. "He may be an ass, but he's a good sort. It mustn't go further." "The more the merrier," said Donaldson. "Don't spoil sport." Paul shook his head, hesitating. But Manning supported him. "You're right, Kestern," he said. "We'll keep the joke to ourselves. You three are pretty thick, and it would be low down to split on a pal."