at poker; wrote good verses that were too wicked for the college literary magazine; and, in his search for artistic sensations, had once smoked hashish behind the locked doors of his room in Witherspoon Hall.
Now, it was toward Witherspoon Hall that the group turned their steps. Ned Bliss was giving a little tea in his rooms, his mother was to join them, and as an evidence that something unusual was going on, a number of other girls, each accompanied by a few satellites, could be seen walking in the direction of Witherspoon along the college walks.
As Hart had passed by he had noticed the tall girl, and his eyes had happened to meet the frank glance of the gray eyes. It had affected him so much for the moment that he had paid little attention to what his companion was saying.
Patrick Corse Heaphy was certainly a character. He sat next to Hart in the class-room, and during the last three or four days the two had struck up quite a friendship.
As Golatly put it, Mr. Heaphy might "wear a French bonnet but he would never get the map of Ireland off his face." The heavy
