Field still made no reply, for he
was almost asleep in his seat. He merely looked up wearily and
gratefully.
"Now you must have some sleep, you know," he continued, "or you'll go to
pieces. I shall be up all night reading for this blessed exam. You're
more than welcome to my bed. To-morrow we'll have a late breakfast
and--and see what can be done--and make plans--I'm awfully good at
making plans, you know," he added with an attempt at lightness.
Field maintained his "dead sleepy" silence, but appeared to acquiesce,
and the other led the way into the bedroom, apologising as he did so to
this half-starved son of a baronet--whose own home was almost a
palace--for the size of the room. The weary guest, however, made no
pretence of thanks or politeness. He merely steadied himself on his
friend's arm as he staggered across the room, and then, with all his
clothes on, dropped his exhausted body on the bed. In less than a minute
he was to all appearances sound asleep.
For several minutes Marriott stood in the open door and watched him;
praying devoutly that he might never find himself in a like predicament,
and then fell to wondering what he would do with his unbidden guest on
the morrow.
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