The world outside the windows got blacker and blacker. He knew that in the next building they were gathering for the banquet and the election. But he had no intention of going. He didn’t want to face them yet, while as for eating, he didn’t care if he never saw food again! Now and then a voice or a strain of whistling or a bar of song came up to him as fellows passed under the window. Once there was a long burst of cheering from commons. One of the Old Boys, perhaps a former football hero, had entered the dining-hall probably. Well, they’d never cheer him that way; never, unless――yes, there was another year coming, after all. Perhaps they’d give him a chance to retrieve, to make up then! For a moment he felt better. But then the thought that if he failed to win his scholarship this year he wouldn’t be likely to get back again sent his spirits down once more. And so for another hour he lay there in self-abasement and self-accusation and got a little tearful at times and felt pretty miserable. And finally, tired out physically and mentally, he fell asleep and only awoke when someone thumped on the door and called his name loudly. He sat up, with a wince as his injured arm was jolted, and rubbed his eyes.