“Yes. . . . And that means, of course, that we shall have to shut up the house until he returns, and of course that will be quite easy, because it’s time you were getting back to St. Luke’s. We thought you had better go on Monday.”
“Monday?” It was now Saturday.
“Yes. . . . Monday. It is fortunate that your uncle has to go into North Bromwich on business that day. . .”
“Yes. . . . Yes. . . Business,” put in Uncle Albert, as though he were anxious to explain that his visit to that sink of iniquity was in no way connected with pleasure.
Edwin burned with sudden and quite unreasonable indignation.
“And you agreed to this, father?”
“Yes. . . . Of course I agreed. Your aunt is quite right. I am overtired. It was a terrible strain. And the doctor suggested that my native air. . . .”
“Oh . . . I don’t mean that,” said Edwin. “I mean about St. Luke’s. . . I can’t go back now . . . of course I can’t . . .”
“Don’t be ridiculous and childish, Edwin,” said Aunt Laura severely. “You don’t imagine just because”—with a hushed and melancholy inflection—“this . . . has happened, you’re never going to school again?”
“No. . . . I don’t mean that. Of course I don’t. Only . . . only the term is nearly over. In another fortnight all the chaps will be going away for the hols. It isn’t worth it. I should feel . . .”