"Substantially that, yes."
"Good Lord. I hadn't heard a thing. Went straight to bed when I got home last night and only got up this morning in time for Chapel. Why, it's the best ever, Harry! You get your numerals. You must be about the first man in your class to do that. What was your time?"
"Pretty rotten. Twenty-five two."
"Not so bad. Gee, but that's fine for you, child!"
"I'm glad you're pleased, James."
"It isn't merely the getting of your numerals in the fall meet, either. It means that you'll be one of the main gazabes in the track world from now on, if you work. There's no one here that can make better time than you in the hurdles, bar Popham, who makes such a fool of himself they can't use him, mostly."
"Oh, damn," said Harry softly and slowly.
"What's the matter? Forgotten something?"
"No. I can't forget something, that's the trouble."
"Well, what is biting you?"