"The rules aren't mine," Loring returned pleasantly. "I found 'em here—five years ago. I only have to see they're kept."
"And, if I try to break them, you'll try to break me? Do you think you'll succeed?" he demanded defiantly.
Loring laughed, and by the narrowing of O'Rane's eyes I could see he did not relish laughter at his own expense.
"I've never given the matter a thought."
"In ten—in eight days' time you'll thrash me for walking two miles through Swanley Forest?"
"No—for breaking bounds. If I do thrash you. Frankly, I'm getting rather sick of it. Probably you are too. I'm going to suggest that you should accompany Oakleigh and me back to school; you're not breaking bounds if you're with us."
O'Rane looked at him for a moment, and his lip curled.
"Mediaevalism tempered by Jesuitism."
Loring smiled good-humouredly. "Not very gracious, is it? And we probably shan't agree over Jesuits."
O'Rane, to his credit, blushed.