“You’re not afraid of girls, are you?” she questioned, and then inconsequently, “I’m awfully lonely.” There was a note of appeal in her tones, so I found my tongue and asked why she was lonely. “Because I quarrel with Beatrice--we don’t get on together. Do you know, she thinks all you boys are simply horrid persons?” “Perhaps we are,” I said. “Most people think that.” “But I don’t,” she answered promptly. Gradually my constraint left me. She had an easy kindness and assurance in her manner that I had never found in any other girl. She slipped her hand into mine; made bold by the darkness of the summer-house, I held it tightly. “I like you. I like you very much,” she whispered. “But you’ve never spoken to me before. Why should you like the?” She turned her face to mine, so that our lips were quite near together. “I suppose because I’m a girl.” The bell for supper began to ring. I pretended not to hear it. Through the roses across the lawn I saw Sneard stand in his study-window, struggling into his gown. Then the window became dark and I knew that he had gone to read evening prayers. “The bell is ringing,” she said at last. “If you don’t go, you’ll get punished.” “If it’s for your sake, I don’t care.” She pushed me gently from her. “Go away now. If you get into trouble, you’ll not be able to come back tomorrow.” She ran down the path with me as far as the hedge. The bell was at its last strokes, swinging slower and slower. At the hedge we halted. I knew what I wanted to do; my whole body ached to take her in my arms and kiss her. But something stronger than will--the habit of restraint--prevented. Some paces away on the other side of the hedge I remembered that I did not even know her name. Without halting I called back to her questioning, and as I ran the answer followed me through the shadows, “Fiesole.” After the monitors had come up and the lights had been put out, I waited for an hour till all the dormitory was sleeping; then, very stealthily, I edged myself out of bed. Standing upright, I listened to make sure that I was undetected. I stole out into the corridor bare-foot. I feared to dress lest anyone should be aroused. In my long linen night-gown I tiptoed down the corridor, down the stairs, and entered the fifth-form class-room. Throwing up the window I climbed out.