warm desire to be cousinly. I reached him. The moment was historic. While the groom held the wheeler’s head, and the twin menials assisted with dignified inactivity, we shook hands.

“How long is it?” he said.

“Fifteen years — about,” I answered, feeling deliciously old.

“Remember I punched your head?”

“Rather!” (Somehow I was proud that he had punched my head.)

“No credit to me,” he added magnanimously, “seeing I was years older than you and a foot or so taller. By the way, Carl, how old did you say you were?”

He regarded me as a sixth-form boy might regard a fourth-form boy.