in the joy of being able to play once again the old game of baiting masters, that had delighted him so much when he had been in the middle school and that he had to abandon so reluctantly when he attained the dignity of the Fifths and Sixths, he had almost forgotten that he was in a singularly difficult situation. He would make “old Carus” ask him a question for every answer that he gave. And he saw that for the moment Carus had lost his length.
“Well, then, let me see. Yes, well—er—well, where did you meet her next?”
“In a lane beyond Cold Harbour, sir.”
“Did you go there alone?”
“No, sir.”
“You were with this other fellow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you do?”
“Do, sir?”
“Yes, do. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, but, Do? I don’t quite understand you. What exactly do you mean by the word ‘do’?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean, Whately. You flirted, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir. I suppose that’s what I did do. I flirted.”
“I mean you held her hand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you kissed her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Disgusting! Simply disgusting! Is this place a heathen brothel or a Christian school?” Carus’ face was red, and he drove his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “You go out on a Sunday afternoon and kiss a shop-girl. What a hobby for a boy in the XV. and Sixth!” And he began to stamp backwards and forwards up and down the room.
This fine indignation did not, however, impress Roland in the least. Carus appeared to him to be less disgusted than interested—pruriently interested—and that he was angry with himself rather than with Roland, because he knew instinctively that he was not feeling as a master should feel when confronted with such a scandal. It was a forced emotion that was inspiring the fierce flow of words.
“Do you know what this sort of thing leads to?” he was saying. “But, of course, you do. I could trust you to know anything like that. Your whole life may be ruined by it.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Perhaps you didn’t, not this time, though I’ve only your word for it; but you would have, sooner or later, under different conditions. There’s only one end to that sort of thing. And even if you were all right yourself, how did you know that Brewster was going to be? That’s the beastly part of it. That’s what sickens me with you. Your own life is your own to do what you like with, but you’ve no right to contaminate others. You encourage this young fellow to go about with a girl four years older than himself, about whom you know nothing. How could you tell what might be happening to him? He may not have your self-control. He’d never have started this game but for you, and now that he’s once begun he may be unable to break himself of it. You may have ruined his whole life, mayn’t you?”
Roland considered the question.
“I suppose so, but I didn’t look at it that way.”
“Of course, you didn’t. But it’s the results that count. That’s what you’ve got to keep in mind; actions are judged by their results. And now, what do you imagine is going to happen to you? I suppose you know that if I go across and report you to the headmaster that it’ll mean the next train back to London?”
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