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moustache and long, unkempt hair. He had been in Germa-
ny for five years and was become very Teutonic. He spoke
with scorn of Cambridge where he had taken his degree and
with horror of the life which awaited him when, having tak-
en his doctorate in Heidelberg, he must return to England
and a pedagogic career. He adored the life of the German
university with its happy freedom and its jolly companion-
ships. He was a member of a Burschenschaft, and promised
to take Philip to a Kneipe. He was very poor and made no
secret that the lessons he was giving Philip meant the dif-
ference between meat for his dinner and bread and cheese.
Sometimes after a heavy night he had such a headache that
he could not drink his coffee, and he gave his lesson with
heaviness of spirit. For these occasions he kept a few bottles
of beer under the bed, and one of these and a pipe would
help him to bear the burden of life.
‘A hair of the dog that bit him,’ he would say as he poured
out the beer, carefully so that the foam should not make
him wait too long to drink.
Then he would talk to Philip of the university, the quar-
rels between rival corps, the duels, and the merits of this
and that professor. Philip learnt more of life from him than
of mathematics. Sometimes Wharton would sit back with a
laugh and say:
‘Look here, we’ve not done anything today. You needn’t
pay me for the lesson.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ said Philip.
This was something new and very interesting, and he felt
that it was of greater import than trigonometry, which he

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