He went to his room and changed, and hoped his messmate Wilson would not be long in coming for supper and a gossip.
Wilson came presently, but his face was glum and his manner frigid.
"Oh, here you are, old chap; I'm peckish.

Did you hear about the match, we--" "Shut up," said Wilson; "you're a cad.

I don't want to talk to you." Corder put down his knife and fork, and looked up in amazement.

This from Wilson! He knew Clapperton was sore about it, but Wilson-- He went on eating while thinking it out, and Wilson ate too in silence, and then rose to go.
"Are you not going to prepare to-night ?" "Yes, in Dangle's room." And Corder was left alone.
This was too bad of Wilson--to-night of all nights.

He would go and look up Selby.