The supreme football player sat there staring at a blur of autumn colour between the lake and the generous mouth of the stadium; and, when the second half commenced, saw, as if from an immeasurable distance, pygmy figures booting a football, or carrying it here and there, or throwing each other about; and he didn't know which were Harvard's men or which were Princeton's, and he didn't seem to care---- Vaguely he heard people suffering. A voice cut through a throaty and grieving murmur. "Somebody's lost his head!" "What's the matter?" he asked Sylvia. "George! You're destroying my hand." Momentarily he remembered, and relaxed his grasp, while she added quickly: "But I don't mind at all, dear." XXVI Lambert stood in front of them, glancing down doubtfully. Evidently the game was over, for people were leaving, talking universally and discontentedly. "Betty and I," Lambert said, dryly, "fancied we'd invented and patented that rug trick." Sylvia stood up. "Don't scold, Lambert." She turned to George, trying to smile. "I shall be happy as long as my hand hurts. Good-bye, George." "You'd better go," Betty whispered as he lingered helplessly. So he drifted aimlessly through the crowd, hearing only a confused murmur, seeing nothing beyond the backs directly in front of him, until he found the Baillys waiting at the ramp opening. "If you'd only been there, George! Although this morning we'd have been glad enough to think of a tie score." He submitted then to Bailly's wonder at each miracle; to his grief for each mistake; and little by little, as the complaining voice hurried on, the world assumed its familiar proportions and movements. He caught a glimpse of Allen walking slowly ahead. The angular man was alone, and projected even to George an air of profound dissatisfaction. Bailly caught his arm and shook hands with him. "Whither away?" George asked. "To the specials." He fell in beside George, and for a time kept pace with him. "What's bothering you, Allen?" With a haggard air Allen turned his head from side to side, gazing at the hastening people. "Lords of the land!" he muttered. "Lords of the land!" "Why?" George asked. "Because they have an education? Well, so have you." Allen nodded toward the emptying stadium. "Lords of the land!" he repeated. "I've been sitting up there with them, but all alone. I wish I hadn't liked being with them. I wish I hadn't been sorry for myself because I was alone." Allen's words, his manner of expressing them, defined a good deal for George, urged him to form a quick resolution. "Catch your special," he said, "but come to my office Tuesday morning. I may have work for you that you can do with a clear conscience. If you must get, get something worth while." Allen glanced at him quickly. "Morton, you've changed," he said. "I'll come." XXVII