... Before Strickland's mind, strolling dreamily,
came pictures of far back, of years ago, of long since. A by-wind had
brought to the tutor then certain curious bits of knowledge.
Alexander, a student in Edinburgh, had lived for some time upon half
of his allowance in order to accommodate Ian Rullock with the other
half, the latter being in a crisis of quarrel with his uncle, who,
when he quarreled, used always, where he could, the money screw.
Strickland had listened to his Edinburgh informant, but had never
divulged the news given. No more had he told another bit, floated to
him again by that ancient Edinburgh friend and gossip, who had young
cousins at college and listened to their talk. It pertained to a time
a little before that of the shared income. This time it had been
shared blood. Strickland, sitting with his book in the quiet room, saw
in imagination the students' chambers in Edinburgh, and the little
throng of very young men, flushed with wine and with youth, making
friendships, and talking of friendships made, and dubbing Alexander
Damon and Ian Pythias. Then more wine and a bravura passage. Damon and
Pythias opening each a vein with some convenient dagger, smearing into
the wound some drops of the other's blood, and going home each with a
tourniquet above the right wrist.... Well, that was years ago--and
youth loved such passages!
Alexander, by the fire, stooped to put back a coal that had fallen
upon the oak boards, then sank again into his reverie.
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