There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. I WAS talking to him before I saw his name on the card beside the row of microscopes. He looked the boy over with interest. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head.
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