Pillingshot wriggled uncomfortably.
"Left your music at home?" said Scott. "Never mind, then. Perhaps it's all for the best. What are those? Still muffins? Hand me another. After all, one must keep one's strength up. You can have one if you like."
Pillingshot's face brightened. He became more affable. He chatted.
"There's rather a row on downstairs," he said. "In the junior day-room."
"There always is," said Scott. "If it grows too loud, I shall get in amongst them with a swagger-stick. I attribute half my success at bringing off late-cuts to the practice I have had in the junior day-room. It keeps the wrist supple."
"I don't mean that sort of row. It's about Evans."
"What about Evans?"
"He's lost a sovereign."
"Silly young ass."
Pillingshot furtively helped himself to another muffin.