“Well, I don’t know, Mongo. You see——” He stopped as if to collect his thoughts, and at once Mongo saw that something was seriously wrong.
“I—I think I see, Gav.” The old man laid a hand on his shoulder as he spoke. “You’ve rushed things a little, haven’t you? Oxford doesn’t stand that, you know.”
“Youth can stand a lot, Mongo.”
“But you’ve drunk the draught too quickly, Gav.”
“That’s what it is. And now … well, it simply can’t go on.… No lees for me!” His voice quavered a little.
“You mean you’re going down?”
“This term, Mongo,” he nodded.
“And for good?”
“For good.”