Coles stepped forward, and leaned towards Rouse until his face was barely an inch away from his. Then he spoke through clenched teeth.
“I don’t want any of that,” said he. “Understand, I don’t want it. Whether you’re captain of footer or not, I don’t want any of that.” He paused. “Otherwise you and I will come to blows. You’ve always thought it funny to pull my leg. It’s time it stopped.”
At the time he presumably forgot that he had never failed to avail himself of any chance that had presented itself to him of insulting or annoying Rouse; nor that on two of the more recent occasions upon which Henry Hope had assisted Terence and Rouse out of a hole it had been he himself who had been instrumental in getting them into it.
“You rather ask for it,” said Rouse gently. “If you could only see how perfectly childish you look in these tempers of yours you’d realise that a chap does you a good turn by trying to cure you. One of these days you’ll do something in a passion of fury that you’ll be sorry for.”
Coles slowly withdrew his face. He then drew back a step and indicated Rouse with a warning finger.
“Take care what you say,” said he darkly. “You be very careful.”
Rouse sighed.
“Before I go,” said he, “there’s one other thing. I’m going to see Morley to-day with a view to asking if I can have Carr for my fag and give you my own. Ludlow would be rather more suited to your temperament than Carr. Ludlow’s had a bit of experience. He’ll know what’s what—if you understand me—and Carr won’t. You can hardly have got used to Carr yet, so you won’t mind, of course.”
He stopped and looked at the other inquiringly.
“Yes, I do mind,” said Coles. “I object very strongly. I particularly asked for Carr.”