"You left a copy of the Lancet here once." Something in his face made me add: "But I should have found a way without that."
"What way—way to what?" He spoke irritably in a raised voice. I looked anxiously at the door. "We won't say anything just yet to my mother," I begged. "My mother wouldn't—understand."
"What wouldn't she understand?" All his kindness had gone. He was once more the cold inaccessible creature I had seen that first day stalking up to Big Klaus's door.
"What I mean is," I explained, quite miserably crestfallen, "my mother wouldn't understand what I feel about studying medicine. But you"—and I had a struggle to keep the tears back—"I've looked forward so to telling you——"
He turned the papers over with an odd misliking expression.
"For one thing, you could never pass the entrance examination," he said. I asked why he thought that.
"Do you see yourself going to classes in London, cramming yourself with all this?"—his hand swept the qualifications list.
"Not classes in London," I said. "But people do the London Matriculation without that. I am taking the University Tutorial Correspondence Course," I said.
I was swallowing tears as I boasted myself already rather good at Botany and French. My mother thought even my German tolerable.
I picked up the little pamphlet issued by the University of London on the subject of Matriculation Regulations, and I pointed out Section III., "Provincial Examinations." The January and June Matriculation Examinations were held at the Brighton Municipal Technical College. He could see that made it all quite convenient and easy.