tea in the School Tuckshop to the
accompaniment of flying pellets of bun, after which they would change
again for amber hours of cricket, until the sun made the shadow of the
stumps as long as telegraph poles, and the great golden clock face in
the School buildings gleamed a late hour. They would part from each
other with regret to ride off in opposite directions. Michael would
linger on his journey home through the mellow streets of Kensington,
writing with his bicycle wheels lazy parabolas and curves in the dust of
each quiet road. Twilight was not far off, the murmurous twilight of a
London evening with its tranced lovers and winking stars and
street-lamps and window-panes. More and more slowly Michael would glide
along, loath to desert the dreaming populations of dusk. He would turn
down unfrequented corners and sail by unfamiliar terraces, aware of
nothing but the languors of effortless motion. Time, passing by in a
sensuous oblivion, made Michael as much a part of the nightfall as the
midges that spun incessantly about his progress. Then round a corner
some night-breeze would blow freshly in his face: he would suddenly
realize it was growing late and, pressing hard the pedals of his
bicycle, he would dart home, swift as a bird that crosses against the
dying glow of the sunset.

Michael's mother was always glad to see him and always glad when he sat
with her on the balcony outside the drawing-room. If he had wanted to
cross-examine her he would have found an easy witness, so tranquil and
so benignant that year was every night of June in London. But Michael
had for the time put aside all speculation and drugged his imagination
with animal exercise, allowing himself no time to think of anything but
the present. He was dimly aware of trouble close at hand, when the
terminal examinations should betray his idleness; but it was impossible
to worry over what was now sheerly inevitable. This summer term was
perfect, and why should one consider ultimate time? Even Stella's
holiday from Germany had been postponed, as if there were a veritable
conspiracy by circumstance to wave away the least element of
disturbance. Next Saturday he and Alan were going to spend the day in
Richmond Park; and when it came in its course what a day it was. The
boys set out directly after breakfast and walked through the pungent
bracken, chasing the deer and the dragonflies as if there were nothing
to distinguish them. Down streamed the sun from