"Into my father's business!" Waters laughed comfortably. "No, I shouldn't ever think of that. No, I want to live in London." "Oh, I see!" "Yes, of course if anything very good was offered me somewhere else,--but no, I think I prefer London. What would you advise?" "What I should advise!" Ames said, looking at him hopelessly. "I suppose you've thought of something for yourself; you have some preference?" "Preference? Oh no, nothing special. I thought I'd ask you." Again Ames looked at him with an odd expression. Then in his polite, weary, equable voice, he said, "Well, I must try and think. I suppose your father--what does he want you to do?" "My father--!" Waters' voice showed what he thought of fathers. "Oh, he said that if I had a university education, there would be something." "Ah, did he! Well, I suppose he ought to know," Ames said doubtfully. "Oh, he doesn't know of anything definite," Waters explained; and then, speaking loudly, as if to a deaf man, he added, "It was only what he thought." "Ah, that's quite different, isn't it?" Ames exclaimed, his face brightening. "But surely there is a great deal to do in London," Waters continued. Yes, there must be a good deal, Ames admitted doubtfully; at least everyone seemed very much occupied there. "All I want is some work, that isn't too much grind, and decent pay." "Ah, that is all that most people want," Ames observed, with half a sigh. "Of course at first I shouldn't expect anything very much," Waters went on, hardly heeding his tutor's vague remarks; and he explained again that he only wanted some decent occupation, with pay enough to live on. Then he waited, gazing at his tutor's blank face as one might gaze at a revolving lighthouse, waiting for its flash of light. As nothing came, however, he said, "Surely there are lots of places where they want Oxford men?" "Possibly there were"; Ames looked as if he, however, had never heard of them. "But Grant and Vaughan had got good places, and Sturdy, they said, was doing well at the Bar." "Ah, I see you mean those clever men, who do so well in the Schools and all. You're quite right; a man like Cornish for instance; I thought you meant more the average man." No, it wasn't Cornish, Waters meant; it wasn't the average man either. "I mean more the man--what you call an all-round-man." "What I call an all-round-man?" Ames looked bewildered. "I mean," Waters continued, with desperate efforts to explain himself, "I mean the man who is rather good all round, rows, and that sort of thing. Perhaps he didn't get a First; didn't care much what he got, didn't approve of the system." Ames seemed busy looking for his glasses. "There are people who don't approve of the system," Waters went on. "I read an article once by someone, Professor something, not approving of examinations. I forget just who it was." "Professor Freeman, perhaps?"