I had another difficult interview with the headmaster over this. But it was my last term, so he allowed me to finish my five years without ignominy. He was puzzled by the frankness of my statement of love for Dick. He reopened the question. I refused to be ashamed. I heard afterwards that he had said that this was one of the rare cases of a friendship between boys of unequal ages which he felt was essentially moral. I went through one of the worst quarters of an hour of my life on Dick’s account in this last term. When the master had warned me about exchanging glances with Dick in chapel I had been infuriated. But when I was told by one of the boys that he had seen the master surreptitiously kissing Dick once, on a choir-treat or some such occasion, I went quite mad. I asked for no details or confirmation. I went to the master and told him he must resign or I would report the case to the headmaster. He already had a reputation in the school for this sort of thing, I said. Kissing boys was a criminal offence. I was morally outraged. Probably my sense of outrage concealed a murderous jealousy. I was surprised when he vigorously denied the charge; I could not guess what was going to happen next. But I said: ‘Well, come to the headmaster and deny it to him.’ He asked: ‘Did the boy tell you this himself?’ I said ‘No.’ ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘I’ll send for him here and he shall tell us the truth.’ So Dick was sent for and arrived looking very frightened, and the house-master said menacingly: ‘Graves tells me that I once kissed you. Is that true?’ Dick said: ‘Yes, it is true.’ So Dick was dismissed and the master collapsed, and I felt miserable. He said he would resign at the end of the term, which was quite near, on grounds of ill-health. He even thanked me for speaking directly to him and not going to the headmaster. That was in the summer of 1914; he went into the army and was killed the next year. I found out much later from Dick that he had not been kissed at all. It may have been some other boy.