The two friends had not been alone together since the fracas in the Fifth two days before, and both now appeared glad of an opportunity of talking over that and subsequent events.
“I suppose you know a lot of the fellows are very sore at you for not thrashing Loman?” said Wraysford.
“I guessed they would be. Are you riled, too, Wray?”
“Not I! I know what I should have done myself, but I suppose you know your own business best.”
“I was greatly tempted to let out,” said Oliver, “but the fact is—I know you’ll jeer, Wray—the fact is, I’ve been trying feebly to turn over a new leaf this term.”
Wraysford said “Oh!” and looked uncomfortable.
“And one of the things I wanted to keep out of was losing my temper, which you know is not a good one.”
“Not at all,” said Wraysford, meaning quite the opposite to what he said.
“Well, if you’ll believe me, I’ve lost my temper oftener in trying to keep this resolution than I ever remember to have done before. But on Friday it came over me just as I was going to thrash Loman. That’s why I didn’t.”
Wraysford looked greatly relieved when this confession was over. “You are a rum fellow, Noll,” said he, after a pause, “and of course it is all right; but the fellows don’t know your reason, and think you showed the white feather.”