’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. ‘You must have been an exceedingly good pupil. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware.
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