Meanwhile the first and most obvious thing was that Bunning was in a state of terror that threatened instant exposure. The man was evidently realizing that now, for the first time, he had a big thing with which he must grapple. He must grapple with his devotion to Olva, with his terror of Craven, but, most of all, with his terror of himself. That last was obviously the thing that tortured him, for, having now been given by the High Gods an opportunity of great service, so miserable a creature did he consider himself that he would not for an instant trust his control. He was trying, Olva saw, with an effort that in its intensity was pathetic to prove himself worthy of the chance that had been offered him, as though it were the one sole opportunity that he would ever be given, but to appear to the world something that he was not was an art that Bunning and his kind could never acquire--that is their tragedy. It was the fate of Bunning that his boots and spectacles should always negative any attempt that he might make at a striking personality. On the night after the "Rag" he sat in Olva's room and made a supreme effort at control. "If you can only hold on," Olva told him, "to the end of term. It's only a week or two now. Just stick it until then; you won't be bothered with me after that." "You're going away?" "I don't know--it depends." "I don't know what I should do if you went. To have to stand that awful secret all alone . . . only me knowing. Oh! I couldn't! I couldn't! and now that Craven--" "Craven knows nothing. He doesn't even suspect anything. See here, Bunning"--Olva crossed over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "Can't you understand that your behaviour makes me wish that I hadn't told you, whereas if you care as you say you do you ought to want to show me how you can carry it, to prove to me that I was right to tell you---" "Yes, I know. But Craven---" "Craven knows nothing." "But he does." Bunning's voice became shrill and his fat hand shook on Olva's arm. "There's something I haven't told you. This morning in Outer Court he stopped me." "Craven stopped you?" "Yes. There was no one about. I was going along to my rooms and he met me and he said: 'Hullo, Bunning.'" "Well?" "I'd been thinking of it--of his knowing, I mean--all night, so I was dreadfully startled, dreadfully startled. I'm afraid I showed it." "Get on. What did he say?" "He said: 'Hullo, Bunning!'" "Yes, you've told me that. What else?" "I said 'Hullo!' I was dreadfully startled. I don't think he'd ever spoken to me before. And then he looked so strange--wild, as though he hadn't slept, and white, and his eyes moved all the time. I'm afraid he saw that I was startled." "Do get on. What else did he ask you?"