Colin and she were going in the same week, Colin to his college and Anne to hers.

They were discussing this prospect.  Colin and Jerrold and Anne in Colin’s room.  It was a chilly day in September and Colin was in bed surrounded by hot water bottles.  He had tried to follow Jerrold in his big jump across the river and had fallen in.  He was not ill, but he hoped he would be, for then he couldn’t go back to Cheltenham next week.

“If it wasn’t for the hot water bottles,” he said, “I might get a chill.”

“I wish I could get one,” said Anne.  “But I can’t get anything.  I’m so beastly strong.”

“It isn’t so bad for you.  You haven’t got to live with the girls.  It’ll be perfectly putrid in my house now that Jerrold isn’t there.”

“Haven’t you any friends, Col-Col?”

“Yes.  There’s little Rogers.  But even he’s pretty rotten after Jerry.”

“He would be.”

“And that old ass Rawly says I’ll be better this term without Jerrold.  He kept on gassing about fighting your own battles and standing on your own feet.  You never heard such stinking rot.”

“You’re lucky it’s Cheltenham,” Jerrold said, “and not some other rotten hole.  Dad and I’ll go over on half-holidays and take you out.  You and Anne.”

“You’ll be at Cambridge.”

“Not till next year.  And it isn’t as if Anne wasn’t there.”

“Grannie and Aunt Emily’ll ask you every week.  I’ve made them.  It’ll be a bit slow, but they’re rather darlings.”

“Have they a piano?” Colin asked.

“Yes.  And they’ll let you play on it all the time.”

Colin looked happier.  But he didn’t get his chill, and when the day came he had to go.

Jerrold saw Anne off at Wyck station.

“You’ll look after Col-Col, won’t you?” he said.  “Write and tell me how he gets on.”

“I’ll write every week.”

Jerrold was thoughtful.

“After all, there’s something in that idea of old Rawlings’, that I’m bad for him.  He’s got to do without me.”

“So have I.”

“You’re different.  You’ll stand it, if you’ve got to.  Colin won’t.  And he doesn’t chum up with the other chaps.”

“No.  But think of me and all those awful girls—­after you and Eliot” (she had forgotten Eliot’s sulkiness) “and Uncle Robert.  And Grannie and Aunt Emily after Auntie Adeline.”

“Well, I’m glad Col-Col’ll have you sometimes.”

“So’m I...  Oh, Jerrold, here’s the beastly train.”

It drew up along the platform.

Anne stood in her carriage, leaning out of the window to him.

His hand was on the ledge.  They looked at each other without speaking.

The guard whistled.  Carriage doors slammed one after another.  The train moved forward.

Jerrold ran alongside.  “I say, you’ll let Col-Col play on that piano?”

Anne was gone.