here is one thing
in the world of which I will not be baulked it is thanking people. I
hate doing it so much, that it has got to be done. Jack, however, did
not pretend to listen to what I said, and after I had finished we
talked about Dennison; both of us were sick to death of him, but when
you are always meeting a man in other people's rooms, and he won't see
that you don't like him, it is not very easy to get rid of him; for
when you are a fresher you can't choose your friends so easily as you
can when your first year is over.

After dinner Fred came round to tell me that we were both playing
against Blackheath, and as Jack came in as well, I said that I would
get another man to play whist. I went to Murray, because I was most
anxious that he should be friends with Jack; but I did not tell him
that Jack was one of the four, or I am sure that he would not have
come. I liked both Murray and Jack, and I thought that when I got them
together each would see what a nice man the other was, for I was again
in the mood when everything seems to be easy. But I cannot say that my
efforts were successful; their politeness knocked every spark of
cheeriness out of the game, and we played in dreadful silence, which
may be all right for very good players, but it does not suit me in the
least.

When Murray looked at his watch and said that he must be going, I felt
quite relieved, and I decided then that I would stop trying to make
Murray and Jack like each other, for the process was too painful and
slow for me.

After he had gone I told Foster what Ward had been doing, and it was
really quite funny to see how confused they were. Fred said how good
it was of Ward to have taken so much bother about nothing, which was
not quite what he meant, but it did very well; and Ward mumbled
something in reply, which neither of us could hear. Altogether they
managed it most successfully, and when Fred went away Ward said that he
would see him to the lodge. I found out afterwards that he stopped me
going with Fred, so that he might tell him nothing would have happened
if he had not seen Tom Harrison; he was the kind of man who never tried
to get more credit than he deserved, unless it was from Oxford
tradesmen.

Playing against Blackheath on the Rectory field before a large crowd of
people was good fun, and at the end of the game I thought that I had
managed to escape without making a very pitiable exhibition of myself.
But on the foll