“Ah, don’t, don’t!”
But he concluded. “Because you are a woman.”
Her voice that had gone high went numb. She made a gesture, as to the same reason and with the same words she’d made before, of weariness with this thing, “Ah, my God, that reason!”
Strike on!
Look, there’s Huggo, failing again to get his remove, superannuated, withdrawn. There’s Harry having a scene with the boy. There ought to be tears. There are tears. But they’re in Harry’s voice and twice he wipes his eyes. They’re not in Huggo’s.
Harry says to Huggo: “I say, I’m not going to be harsh; but, I say, can’t you understand the disgrace; can’t you understand the shame, old man? You’ve been at the finest school in England and you’ve had to leave. You’re sixteen. Old man, when I was sixteen I got my footer colours. I was the youngest chap in the team. You’re sixteen and you’ve never even got a house cap and you’ve had to leave. Huggo, I’ve never missed going down to a Founders’ Day since I went to Oxford. It’s always been the day of the year for me. I don’t say I’ve ever done much in life, but every time I’ve been down to Founders’ Day I’ve thought over, in the train, any little thing I may have pulled out in the year and I’ve felt, I’ve felt awfully proud to be taking it down to the old school, so to speak. Old chap, the proudest, far the proudest of all, was the year I went down when first you were there. I was proud. I’d given a son to the place. I’d got a boy there. Another Occleve was going to write the name up on the shields and rolls and things. It was the year Garnett first came down as a Cabinet Minister. Huggo, I looked old Garnett in the face with a grin. Whatever he’d done I’d got this much up on him—he hadn’t given a son to the place. He hadn’t got a boy there. That’s how I always felt. Well, old man, it’s all over. I can’t go down to Founders’ Day ever again. I’ve never missed. Now—I’ve had to withdraw my boy. I can’t go again. I couldn’t face it.”
He wiped his eyes. No tears in Huggo’s eyes. On Huggo’s face only a look sullen and aggrieved; and sullen and aggrieved his mutter, “Well, perhaps it was different for you. I couldn’t stick the place.”
She gasped out, “Huggo!” but Harry had heard, and Harry, perhaps in offset to the emotion he had displayed, smashed his hand down on the table before him and cried out, “Well, keep your mouth shut about it then! Couldn’t stick it! What can you be? What can be the matter with you? Couldn’t stick it! Tidborough! The finest school in the world! Couldn’t stick it!”
She interposed, “Harry, dear! Huggo; Huggo, tell your father you didn’t mean that.”
Huggo’s mumble: “I’m sorry, father.”