Page:A Princetonian.djvu/189

 "Got some fizz up there," put in Sprague. "Better come."

Hart was about to decline. Then all at once he changed his mind—without any further conversation they turned toward Witherspoon. There was no doubt about it, Danforth possessed the power of interesting people, even fascinating them. Many men and women had spoken of this; yet it could not be said that he possessed the gift of winning or compelling any lasting affection. Friends of the heart he had none; plenty of admirers in a certain way, and companions of the mind, nothing more. He was above that relation that makes friendly criticism possible; he made no self-acknowledged mistakes. No one gave Raymond Danforth any advice about his habits; he gave the impression of having calculated all the results, and decided matters coolly and collectedly. He said things worth remembering, and was often quoted—besides he was of age and wealthy.

Hart was astonished as he entered Danforth's rooms. Although Betts's quarters in University Hall were handsome, they did not begin to have the luxury of Danforth's. A brilliant Indian lamp hung in the middle of the room.