"That's pretty bad," he said, frowning. "What do the others say?" One paper had it that his presence of mind and prompt action had saved the girl's life. The third one hinted that the party had been rather gay, and said in a short sentence: "_It is said other students were with young Stover, who prefer not to incur any unnecessary notoriety._" "It looks ugly," said Stover grimly. "Who was with you?" said Hungerford anxiously. "I prefer not to tell." "Troutman and Schley, of course," said Regan suddenly, and, starting out of his usual imperturbability, he began to revile them. "But, Dink, old man," said Hungerford, drawing his arm through his, "how the deuce did you ever get into it?" "Well, Joe, what's the use of explanations?" said Stover gloomily. "Every one'll believe what they want to. It's a thoroughly nasty mess. It's my luck, that's all." "Is that all you can say?" said Hungerford anxiously. "All just now. I don't feel particularly affable, Joe." The walk from his eating-joint to the chapel was perhaps the most difficult thing he had ever done. Every one was reading the news, commenting on it, as he passed along, red, proud, and angry. He felt the fire of amazed glances, the lower classmen looking up at the big man of the junior class in disgrace, his own friends puzzled and uncomprehending. At the fences there was an excited buzz, which dropped perceptibly as he passed. Regan was at one side, Hungerford loyally on the other. At the junior fence Bob Story, who had just got the report, came out hurriedly to him. "I say, Dink, it--it isn't true?" he said. "Something's wrong--must be!" "Not very far wrong," said Stover. He saw the incredulity in Bob's face, and it hurt him more than all the rest. "Even Bob thinks I'm that sort, that I've been doing things on the sly I wouldn't stand for in public. And if he thinks it, what'll others think?" "Shut up, Bob," he heard Regan say. "It may look a nasty mess, and Dink may not tell the real story, but one thing I know, he didn't scuttle off like a scut, but faced the music, and that's all I want to know." Stover laughed, a short, nervous, utterly illogical laugh, defiant and stubborn. He would never tell what had happened--let those who wanted to misjudge him. Several men in his class--he remembered them ever after--came up and patted him on the back, one or two avoided him. Then he had to go by the senior fence into chapel with every eye upon him, watching how he bore the scandal. He knew he was red and uncomfortable, that on his face was something like a sneer. He knew that what every one was saying under his voice was that it was hard luck, damned hard luck, that it was a rotten scandal, and that Stover's chances for Skull and Bones were knocked higher than a kite.