What a hypocrite I had been!  But I had obtained what I sought—­a room alone.  But now I must, in truth, study the Greek Testament and Horace....

I figured out that if I enrolled for several extra Bible courses the Faculty would be easier on me with my other studies, and let me cut some of them out entirely.

To make myself even more “solid,” I gave out that I had been persuaded to Christianity so strongly, of a sudden, that I contemplated studying for the ministry.  I even wrote my grandmother that this was what I intended to do.  And her simple, pious letter in return, prayerful with thanks to God for my conversion so signal—­in secret cut me to the heart....

But it gave me a temporary pleasure, now, to be looked upon as “safe.”  To be openly welcomed at prayer-meetings ...  I acted, how I acted, the ardent convert ... and how frightened I was, at myself, to find that, at times, I believed that I believed!...

My former back-sliding was forgiven me.

And the passage of Tennyson about “one honest doubt” being more than half the creeds, was quoted in my favour.

* * * * *

Field-day!...

* * * * *

I entered for the two-mile, to be run off in the morning ... for the half-mile, the first thing in the afternoon ... the mile, which was to be the last event, excepting the hammer-throw.  My class, in a body, had urged me to enter for all the “events” I could ... when the delegation came, I welcomed them, with gratified self-importance, to my solitary room.  I invited them in, and they sat about ... on my single chair ... my bed ... the floor....

“You see, Gregory, if you win two of these races, we’ll get the banner that goes to the class that makes the greatest number of points ... you must do it for us ... we have never yet won the banner, and this is our last chance.”

They left, solemnly shaking my hand, as over a matter of vast importance....

Hurrying into my track suit, I went out to the Oval.  It was three days before the meet.

Dunn was there, with several others, measuring out distances and chalking lanes.

With all the delicate joy of an aesthete I took my slim, spiked running shoes.  I patted them with affection as I pushed my feet into them.  I removed the corks from the shining spikes....

I struck out with long, low-running, greyhound strides ... around and around ... the wind streamed by me....

I knew I was being watched admiringly.  I could see it out of the tail of my eyes.  So I threw forward in a final sprint, that brought me up, my eyes stinging with the salt of sweat, my legs aching ... my chest heaving....

“Good boy,” complimented Dunn, coming up to me, and patting me on the back ...  Gregory, I’m for you.  I’m so glad you’ve come out a clean, fine, clear-cut Christian.”

* * * * *