But there was no regret in his heart on this lovely spring morning. The song of the lark mounting to a southern cloud, the sense of budding things in hedge and tree, the sharp air, and the exuberance of his friend, Bobbie Vernley, all augured well for the adventure. "You have given me a great time, Bobbie," he said, looking on the good-natured face of his friend. "Don't forget to tell Marsh to write, and let me have all the news. I will write as soon as I get my rooms." There was a slamming of doors, the screech of the engine whistle, a final handshake, a look in Vernley's eyes that told him much, and they were parted again. John sat back in the seat and watched the familiar station glide away. Somehow this place always marked the beginning and end of things. When next he came how would he stand--a success or a failure? He had weighed anchor and was putting to sea. He had youth, one hundred and twenty pounds, and determination. Opening a note book, he glanced through a list of addresses which gave him a little comfort. He knew a few persons in London. There was Mr. Steer, and a renewal of his acquaintance warmed him with joyous expectation. There was Mrs. Graham, to whom he was confidential, and who, looking in upon his dreams knew to what starry pinnacles he aspired. Muriel had insisted on an early call on Mr. Ribble, but John felt doubtful. A busy politician would find courtesy and kindliness heavily taxed if every stray youth seeing London rang his door bell. But he made one promise to call formally. There was a hope of companionship in the presence in town of Lindon, who had just left Balliol to study at the Royal Academy of Music, but a certain shyness still hung over his relations with that brilliant person. There was something he never quite understood, a reservation in manner, if not in speech, which told John theirs could never be an equal friendship. Somehow he always felt the debtor to Lindon, perhaps owing to his manner. Despite his cordiality, his obvious liking of John's company, the latter always felt diffident; perhaps now he would learn to know Lindon better, relieved of the halo of a schoolboy's worship.