Stanbury had not taken so high a degree as Trevelyan,--indeed had not gone out in honours at all.

He had done little for the credit of his college, and had never put himself in the way of wrapping himself up for life in the scanty lambswool of a fellowship.

But he had won for himself reputation as a clever speaker, as a man who had learned much that college tutors do not profess to teach, as a hard-headed, ready-witted fellow, who, having the world as an oyster before him, which it was necessary that he should open, would certainly find either a knife or a sword with which to open it.
Immediately on leaving college he had come to town, and had entered himself at Lincoln's Inn.

Now, at the time of our story, he was a barrister of four years' standing, but had never yet made a guinea.
He had never made a guinea by his work as a barrister, and was beginning to doubt of himself whether he ever would do so.

Not, as he knew well, that guineas are generally made with ease by barristers of four years' standing, but because, as he said to his friends, he did not see his way to the knack of it.