But the next afternoon, the thought returning to him with pleasure, all at once, following a boyish whim, he passed into his old entry at Lawrence, and, going down a little guiltily into the region of the bath-tubs, came to the wall on which was inscribed the lists of his class. On the Bones list, third from the top, the name Stover had been replaced and heavily underlined. It gave him quite a thrill; something seemed to leap up inside of him, and he went out hastily. Then all at once he became angry. It was like opening up again a fight that had been fought and lost. "What an ass I am," he said furiously. "The deuce of a chance I have to go Bones--with Reynolds and Le Baron. Can the leopard change his spots? About as much chance as a ki-yi has to go through a sausage machine and come out with a bark." But, as he went towards Jean Story's home, thinking of her and what she would want, the force of what Brockhurst had said began to weaken. "Brocky is impractical," he said artfully. "We must deal with things as they are, make the best of them. He exaggerates the effect on the imagination. At any rate, no one can accuse me of not taking a stand." He saw the old colonial home, white and distinguished under the elms, and he said to himself, hoping against hope: "If I were tapped--it would mean a good deal to her. I'll be darned if I'll let Brocky work me up. I'm not going up against anything more! I've done enough here." He said it defiantly, for the courage of a man has two factors, his courage and the courage of the woman he loves. CHAPTER XXV When he had returned to the college after the summer, he came to his first call on Jean Story with a confident enthusiasm, eager for the first look in her eyes. He had not corresponded with her during the summer. He had not even asked for permission to write, confident though he was that her consent would now be given. He was resolved, as a penance for his first blunder, to hold himself in reserve on every occasion. Bob had written the news, always pressing him to take two weeks off for a visit to the camp, but Dink, despite the tugging at his heart, had stuck to Regan, perhaps a little secretly pleased to show his earnestness. Now, as he came swinging impatiently toward the glowing white columns under the elms, he realized all at once what was the moving influence in his struggle for growth and independence. "Here is the horny-handed son of toil," he said, holding out his hand with a laugh. She took it, turning over the firm palm with a little curiosity, and looked at him sharply, aware of a great change--they were no longer boy and girl. The vacation had made of the impetuous Dink Stover she had known a new personality that was strange and a little intimidating.