“We needn’t stay long, but it’s rather ripping, don’t you think?” Michael urged. “Alan, do you remember once we sat here on a night before exams at the end of a summer term?” “Yes, but it was a jolly sight warmer than it is now,” said Alan. “I know. We were in ‘whites,’” said Michael pensively. “Alan, I’m in love. I am really. You mustn’t laugh. I was a fool over that first girl, but now I am in love. Alan, she’s only seventeen, and she has hair the colour of that rather thick honey you get at chemists. Only it isn’t thick, but as foamy as a lemon-sponge. And her mouth is truly a bow and her voice is gloriously deep and exciting, and her eyes are the most extraordinary blue—as blue as ink in a bottle when you hold it up to the light—and her chin is in two pieces rather like yours, and her ankles—well—her ankles are absolutely divine. The extraordinary luck is that she loves me, and I want you to meet her. I’m describing her very accurately like this because I don’t want you to think I’m raving or quoting poetry. You see, you don’t appreciate poetry, or I could describe her much better.” “I do appreciate poetry,” protested Alan. “Oh, I know you like Kipling and Adam Lindsay Gordon, but I mean real poetry. Well, I’m not going to argue about that. But, Alan, you must be sympathetic and believe that I really am in love. She has a sister called Doris. I haven’t met her yet, but she’s sure to be lovely, and I think you ought to fall in love with her. Now wouldn’t that be splendid? Alan, you do believe I’m in love this time?” Michael paused anxiously. “I suppose you must be,” said Alan slowly. “And you’re glad?” asked Michael a little wistfully. “What’s going to happen?” Alan wondered. “Well, of course not much can happen just now. Not much can happen while one is still at school,” Michael went on. “But don’t let’s talk about what is going to be. Let’s talk about what is now.” Alan looked at him reproachfully. “You used to enjoy talking about the future.” “Because it used always to be more interesting,” Michael explained. Alan rose from the seat and taking Michael’s arm drew him down the hill. “And will you come and meet her sister?” Michael asked. “I expect so,” said Alan. “Hurrah!” cried the lover. “I suppose this means the end of football, the end of cricket, in fact the end of school as far as you’re concerned,” Alan complained. “I wish you’d waited a little.” “I told you I was years older than you,” Michael pointed out, involuntarily making excuses. “Only because you would encourage yourself to think so. Well, I hope everything will go well. I hope you won’t take it into your head to think you’ve got to marry her immediately, or any rot like that.” “Don’t be an ass,” said Michael.