“It is very touching,” says his aunt. “I wish we had known him.”
“So do I.”
“A pity you did not get it earlier,” says Southwold, “or had not been so precipitate.”
Bertram folds the letter up and looks across at the Malmaison roses.
“Magdalen College,” adds Southwold, grimly, “won’t trouble itself much about the horses and dogs.”
“Can’t you withdraw your refusal, Wilfrid?” asks his aunt.
Bertram is silent.
“Would they let you?” asks Southwold.
“It is a cruel position to be placed in,” says Bertram.
“Would it be utterly impossible,” says Southwold, sarcastically, “for you to regard it, as a mere, humdrum, ordinary Philistine person like myself would do, as a very fortuitous and felicitous piece of good luck?”