"Eight o'clock I declare," he said; "why I must have been here more than two hours. I'm afraid, now, you have been wanting to work, and I have kept you from it with my talk." "No, it's Saturday night. Besides, I don't get much society that I care about, and so I enjoy it all the more. Won't you stop and have some tea?" Tom gladly consented, and his host produced a somewhat dilapidated set of crockery, and proceeded to brew the drink least appreciated at St. Ambrose's. Tom watched him in silence, much excercised in his mind as to what manner of man he had fallen upon; very much astonished at himself for having opened out so freely, and feeling a desire to know more about Hardy, not unmixed with a sort of nervousness as to how he was to accomplish it. When Hardy sat down again and began pouring out the tea, curiosity overcame, and he opened with-- "So you read nights, after Hall? "Yes, for two or three hours; longer, when I am in a good humor." "What, all by yourself?" "Generally; but once or twice a week Grey comes in to compare notes. Do you know him?" "No, at least he hasn't called on me, I have just spoken to him." "He is a quiet fellow, and I daresay doesn't call on any man unless he knew something of him before." "Don't you?" "Never," said Hardy, shortly; and added after a short pause, "very few men would thank me if I did; most would think it impertinent, and I'm too proud to risk that." Tom was on the point of asking why; but the uncomfortable feeling which he had nearly lost came back on him. "I suppose one very soon gets tired of the wine and supper party life, though I own I find it pleasant enough now." "I have never been tired," said Hardy; "servitors are not troubled with that sort of a thing. If they were I wouldn't go unless I could return them, and that I can't afford." "There he goes again," thought Tom; "why will he be throwing that old story in my face over and over again? He can't think I care about his poverty; I won't change the subject this time, at any rate." And so he said: "You don't mean to say it makes any real difference to a man in society up here, whether he is poor or rich; I mean, of course, if he is a gentleman and a good fellow?" "Yes, it does--the very greatest possible. But don't take my word for it. Keep your eyes open and judge for yourself; I daresay I'm prejudiced on the subject." "Well, I shan't believe it if I can help it," said Tom; "you know, you said just now that you never called on any one. Perhaps you don't give men a fair chance. They might be glad to know you if you would let them, and may think it's your fault that they don't." "Very possible," said Hardy; "I tell you not to take my word for it." "It upsets all one's ideas so," went on Tom; "why Oxford ought to be the place in England where money should count for nothing. Surely, now, such a man as Jervis, our captain, has more influence than all the rich men in the college put together, and is more looked up to?"