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Rh approving vaguely—until Stewart condemned—every sample that was held up for inspection. Finally Stewart chose a paper with a background of dark red and an involved pattern of large fruits in gold and green; it was absurdly expensive, but, as Stewart pointed out, rich and distinguished. Floyd tentatively ventured to contribute but one picture, a double-page drawing from "Harper's Weekly" of an Indian fight; the thing had taken his eye, and he had cut it out and had it put in a frame that he realized tardily was of the same execrable color as the late mantel and doors. But he liked the picture so much that he showed it to Stewart, who tactfully said he thought it would hardly "go" with the paper. So Floyd hung it on the wall of his bedroom, and then under Stewart's guidance bought some carbon prints of Michael Angelo, Velasquez, and Rembrandt; also a set of Holbein's drawings. Floyd was amazed at his room-mate's taste in carpets and curtains. Hitherto it had never occurred to him as possible that a boy of his own age could have a knowledge of such things.

As for college life—at the phrase Stewart conjured up a world of polite adventure, in which there would be whimsical plots, gay exploits, a merry warfare waged without malice against all representatives of law and discipline, a life by night at hotels and theatres in Boston and at clubs in Cambridge, and for himself eventually the leadership of all the joyous, reveling company that give to college life its irresponsible, humorous, lovable name. For Floyd, the phrase held a different meaning, other possibilities. It included the most ultimate athletic prowess; high above all men loomed for him the glorious figure of the captain of the team. It meant, too, that at last he could give up Latin and Greek and spend his working time in laboratories, with blow-pipes and test-tubes and inexhaustible experiments at his command. Beyond these two facts the world was a mystery that would be unfolding for four delightful years. All Floyd was sure