The Tonford match was a sad travesty of Fernhurst football. The school lost by over forty points. Gordon got his "Seconds," in company with nearly the entire Fifteen. He was not very elated. These things had lost their value. Still, it was as well to have them.
The school authorities then came to the conclusion that the expense of travelling was too great during war-time, and the Dulbridge match was scratched.
The Fifteen continued to play uppers. There was nothing to train for. There was no chance of there being any matches, but the same routine went on.
It was in this period of depression that Gordon began to take an interest in Morcombe.
Morcombe was considerably Gordon's junior; not so much in years—there was, as a matter of fact, only a few months between them—as in position. Morcombe had come late; had made little mark at either footer or cricket; and had drifted into the Army class, where, owing to private tuition and extra hours, he found himself somewhat "out of it" in the House. In hall he used to sit at the top of the day-room table.
Gordon very rarely took hall. He generally managed to find someone to assume the duty for him; but one day everyone seemed engaged on some pursuit or other, so with every anticipation of a dull evening he went down to hall. He began to read Shelley but the surroundings were unpropitious. All about him sat huddled fragments of humanity scratching half-baked ideas with crossed nibs into dog-eared notebooks. There was a general air of unrest. Gordon tried Sinister Street; some of the episodes in Lepard Street were more in harmony with his feelings, but there was in Compton Mackenzie's prose a Keats-like perfection of phrase which seemed almost as much out of place as Adonais. As a last resort he began to talk to the two boys nearest him, Bray and Morcombe. Bray always amused him; his whole outlook on life was so exactly like his footer. But for once Gordon found him dull. Morcombe was so much more interesting.
In second hall that evening Gordon discovered from a House list that Morcombe was in the Army class. He consulted Foster on the subject.
"Know anything about a lad called Morcombe?"
"Yes; he is in the Army class. Rather a fool. Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I was talking to him in hall to-night. He didn't seem so bad."