I do not flinch. From you it demands unceasing devotion to
your books, your studies, your researches. You are no longer a boy:
you are a man. The idle sports of youth must be placed behind you.
Stern life must be sternly faced."
"I do not flinch," George had replied.
"For your personal expenses I shall make you a small allowance. You
will live in my house. Your wants should be insignificant."
In a faint voice George squeezed in: "I have heard that one can work
far better by living near the hospital in digs."
"Elucidate."
"Digs--lodgings. I have heard that one can work far better by living
near the hospital in lodgings."
"Adjust that impression," Mr. Marrapit had told him. "You are
misinformed."
George struggled: "I should have the constant companionship of men
absorbed in the same work as myself. We could exchange views and notes
in the evenings."
"In your books seek that companionship. With them compare your views.
Let your notes by them be checked. They are infallible."
George said no more. At that moment the freedom of hospital as against
the restraint of school, was a gallant steed upon which he outrid all
other desires. The prospect of new and strange books in exchange for
those he so completely abhorred, was an alluring delight. It is not
until the bargain is complete that we discover how much easier to
polish, and more comfortable to handle, are old lamps than new.
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