He sat down and I stared at the brown wing of hair brushed smoothly from his temple to his ear. I felt ashamed that these people had power over me. I could not drive the blood from my face. It was burning my cheeks and drying up my skin.

They began to talk about me as if I were not there.

“I certainly think he ought to go back,” my brother said.

I sat stiffly on the sofa, saying that I would never go back.

“What’ll he do if he doesn’t?” my aunt burst out, looking wildly towards my cousin. “He’s far too young to leave school.”

I was angry that they talked about me in the third person. “Tell them,” I said, turning to my cousin as if she were an interpreter, “that I’ve decided never to go back.”

She looked into space, saying nothing for a moment, then she asked quietly, “Would you go back just for this term, Denton?”

I suddenly felt cornered. I knew that my cousin expected me to be reasonable.

“There isn’t any point in going back just for this term,” I said, still fighting. “Why can’t I leave now?”

“Because they’d think you were afraid,” she answered softly; and as she spoke the words, “Harmless as doves and wise as serpents” sprang up in my mind. I saw them spelt out as if they were written round the walls of a chapel. I felt that I had been betrayed, that I had to do right against my will. Slowly and miserably I said that I would go back till the end of the term. I did not know how I would do it, but I said it. I could not argue any more.

My aunt sighed and decided to stay the night. She seemed to be almost enjoying her trip to London. When I left the house with my brother, Wills was already moving out of the dressing-room to make room for her.

My brother was taking me to tea with some friends. I suppose in his way he wanted to cheer me up.

We climbed the narrow stairs to the mews flat and found our hostess sitting by the fire. She was like a fat little bird in her tight black hat. She hopped round my brother asking questions. She wanted to know why I was not at school. My brother frowned.

“Denton hasn’t been well, but he’s all right now. He’s going back tomorrow.” This was not done for my sake, but to flout her.

As they talked, I took in the gay little “Victorian” room. Big white china dogs stood in the hearth, and on the mantelpiece, over their heads, cut-glass prisms dangled round black candles. The walls were covered with white and silver ceiling paper, and the curtains were deep purple satin with white fringes.

Mrs. Estridge was in mourning for her husband, and the money he had lost before he died. She was asking my brother where she could sell his guns and fishing-rods. Her daughter Mary would not be in just yet, as she had got a job as mannequin at five pounds a week.

When the tea-tray was set down in front of her she poured out like a starling pecking at a bird bath. I do not think she liked me very much-I was not manly enough; but she saw that I had a scone and jam to eat, and then went on talking to my brother. I could see that he was annoyed because Mary was not there. We left early and walked out on to the oily cobblestones of the mews.

“I would have told the old bitch about you if she hadn’t asked,” my brother said.

I was thankful that she had. For once I was glad that my brother was so perverse. I was almost fond of him. He took hold of my arm when we crossed the street, and we walked like this back to my cousin’s house.

He left soon after dinner and, seeing that I was tired, my cousin took my aunt into the dining-room so that my bed could be made up on the sofa.

Wills was more silent than ever now that she had been turned out of her room. Her grudging looks seemed to say, “I have been personal maid and a good many other things all these years, and now I’m turned out of my room and the drawing-room’s ruined by people who are hardly even relations!” She would not smile.