A broad-shouldered student with a moustache was cutting in the letters with a jack-knife, seriously. " I was conscious as I spoke that I looked prodigious things, for I got the slow reflection of them in my companion's face. My companion still demurred: the storm of the night and the early morning had dropped, but the afternoon was damp and gray. "Who was it she was in love with?" "The story will tell," I took upon myself to reply.