That night a thrilled but incredulous dormitory discussed the exploit of Ingleby. Without pretending to have approached the dizzy achievements of Griffin, Edwin perceived that in addition to reassuring himself he had managed to atone for a little of his former reputation. He found himself treated with something that was almost respect, partly for the daring of the whole expedition, but even more for the crowning achievement of his inspired lie.
“I wish you hadn’t told them that,” he said to Widdup.
“Why not?” said Widdup. “That was the best part of it.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t mind telling a lie, but it’s rotten if the chap you tell it to believes you.”
“Get out,” said Widdup. “If you want to know the truth it’s only another example of your rotten cockiness.”
Why? Why? Why? . . . He couldn’t understand it. It seemed to him that the most natural decent things in the world were all labelled as abnormalities. Even if he had proved to his own satisfaction that he possessed the usual amount of “guts,” it seemed that he was a kind of freak. There was no getting to the bottom of the mystery. Yet, when he came to consider himself, he was certain that his attitude was infinitely humble. Perhaps that was the trouble. Other chaps didn’t think about themselves. Edwin envied them unfeignedly. He felt that he was condemned to travel a sort of vicious circle. Thus, if he were honest to himself he was bound to fail in the ordinary normal standard and to be considered, if not a prig, an oddity. If, by enormous efforts, he were to compel himself into the trodden ways of thought and conduct, he couldn’t be honest—and in the process of regaining his honesty he found himself fighting his way back to the original misfortune. There was no way out of it. Isolated he must be. He determined, above all things, that even if he were not ashamed of his isolation, he wouldn’t be proud of it. It wasn’t easy.
The whole incident of the Birches—which, after all, he had meant for a sort of private trial—was becoming a nuisance. He almost welcomed the attitude of Griffin, who scoffed at the whole business and refused to believe he had been there. Griffin, his own reputation for valour and cunning being in question, determined to prove that Edwin had not been near the race. In the dormitory that night the coalition set themselves to this business, beginning with an examination at the hands of Griffin himself.
“Widdup says you went to see the Birches run.”
“Does he?” said Edwin.
“Now, none of your fooling, Ingleby. You’re a damned little liar. You never put your nose near the races.”