him, who passed him or whom he passed, glanced at his eager face and thought that there was a guy they’d like to know.
An experienced observer would have divided those boys into three groups: preparatory school boys, carelessly at ease, well dressed, or, as the college argot has it, “smooth”; boys from city schools, not so well dressed perhaps, certainly not so sure of themselves; and country boys, many of them miserably confused and some of them clad in Kollege Kut Klothes that they would shamefacedly discard within a week,
Hugh finally reached the top of the hill, and the campus was before him. He had visited the col¬ lege once with his father and knew his way about. Eager as he was to reach Surrey Hall, he paused to admire the pseudo-Gothic chapel. He felt a little thrill of pride as he stared in awe at the magnificent building. It had been willed to the college by an alumnus who had made millions selling rotten pork.
Hugh skirted two of the factory laboratories, hurried between the Doric temple and Byzantine mosque, paused five times to direct confused class¬ mates, passed a dull red colonial building, and finally stood before Surrey Hall, a large brick dormitory half covered by ivy.
He hurried up-stairs and down a corridor until
