"Well, as far as I can gather, the school will meet without me next September."
"The sack?"
"Well, hardly that; the embroidered bag."
They talked and laughed. Marston was very jolly; he gave himself no airs, and Roland could hardly realise that three years ago he had been frightened of him, that when Marston had passed him in the cloister he had lowered his voice, and as often as not had stopped speaking till he had gone by.
"And what's going to happen to you now?" asked Marston.
"That's just what I don't know. My pater talked about my going into a bank."
"But you'd hate that, wouldn't you?"
"I'm not too keen on it."
"Lord, no! I should think not. And there's no real future in it. You ought to go into the City. There's excitement there, and big business. You don't want to waste your life like that."