The Apple — H.G. Wells

Mr. Hinchcliff looked up, hearing imperfectly. He had been lost in the rapt contemplation of the college cap tied by a string to his portmanteau handles-the outward and visible sign of his newly-gained pedagogic position-in the rapt appreciation of the college cap and the pleasant anticipations it excited. For Mr. Hinchcliff had just matriculated at London University, and was going to be junior assistant at the Holmwood Grammar School-a very enviable position. He stared across the carriage at his fellow-traveller.