“I wrote to her last night,” said Michael.
“I spent nearly all yesterday in writing to her,” said Alan. “I couldn’t think of anything to say. Could you?”
“No, I couldn’t think of very much,” Michael agreed. “It seemed so unnecessary.”
“I know,” Alan said. “I’d really rather have come to school.”
“I wish you had. I made an awful fool of myself in the morning. I got in a wax with Abercrombie and the chaps, and said I’d never play football again.”
“Oh, because I didn’t think they appreciated what it meant for a chap like your Uncle Kenneth to be killed.”
“Do you mean they said something rotten?” asked Alan, flushing.
“I don’t think you would have thought it rotten. In fact, I think the whole row was my fault. But they seemed to take everything for granted. That’s what made me so wild.”
“Look here, we can’t start a conversation like this just before school. Are you going home to dinner?” Alan asked.