Such was the party.
As the supper went on my fears began to vanish, for if Graeme did not
'roar,' he did the next best thing--ate and talked quite up to his
old form. Now we played our matches over again, bitterly lamenting the
'if's' that had lost us the championships, and wildly approving the
tackles that had saved, and the runs that had made the 'Varsity crowd go
mad with delight and had won for us. And as their names came up in talk,
we learned how life had gone with those who had been our comrades of ten
years ago. Some, success had lifted to high places; some, failure had
left upon the rocks, and a few lay in their graves.
But as the evening wore on, I began to wish that I had left out the
wines, for the men began to drop an occasional oath, though I had let
them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had been. But
Graeme smoked and talked and heeded not, till Rattray swore by that name
most sacred of all ever borne by man. Then Graeme opened upon him in a
cool, slow way--
'What an awful fool a man is, to damn things as you do, Rat.
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