u've
shown me all this."

"I may see things you miss," said Anstey, "but I've no practical
ability, no thoroughness. Anyhow I'm glad if I've given you something
in return for what you have given me."

Martin had bought books for Anstey, Synge at five shillings a volume.
He had been proud of knowing about Synge at school.

"Oh, that was nothing," he answered. But it had meant fewer sardines
and sausages when he fed with Rayner.

"Then we're quits, dear old fool."

"Why old fool?"

"For taking me seriously."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Nobody else does. I amuse them and they like me all right. But I
think you really care----"

"Yes, of course. Honestly, I care."

They lay in silence, looking at one another.

Later on they went headlong down the slopes and assuaged their heat by
bathing in the pool, which was almost deserted. It was still warm
enough to lie on the soft banks so that the setting sun might dry their
bodies.

They were late for house tea.

At this point Heseltine comes into the story.

He was head of Berney's, a fact of which he was most painfully aware.
Though not prominent in games, he was sound in all branches of life:
above all, he was a man with an influence, a force for good, one of
Foskett's darlings. He held strong views on the duty of a prefect and
the possibility of 'feeling the school's moral pulse.' Berney's
objected to his constant attentions: the house preferred to have its
pulse unfelt. Everyone resented Heseltine's new rules and posted
notices and petty interference, but of all Berneyites the most opposed
to Heseltine in spirit and conduct was Anstey.

That night Heseltine asked Martin to see him after prep.

"Oh, I want to have a chat with you," said Heseltine when Martin
arrived. "Just one friend to another."

"Yes," said Martin suspiciously.

"You've been going about a lot with young Anstey," the prefect went on.

"Yes."

"I don't want to seem interfering" (sure sign, Martin knew, that he was
going to interfere), "but I think I ought to warn you against him.
He's not good enough for you. His record isn't a good one."

"He's in the Lower Sixth."

"I know that. He's clever enough. But we've had trouble with him. He
doesn't fit into things: he's dangerous."

Martin wanted to say: "You think everybody dangerous who has more
brains than you." As a matter of fact he said: "Oh?" There was
something formidable about Heseltine.

"Of course," he continued,