he
lines--I wouldn't do them; that I didn't care if I was expelled;
Kensingtowe was a beastly school, and Bramhall was its filthiest
house.

The sound of a step in the corridor behind me arrested my thoughts.
I leaned farther out of the window and muttered: "Oh, I hope he
won't speak to me. I hope he'll pass by. I hate him, whoever he is.
O God, make him pass by," for I knew there was a moisture in my
eyes. I hurriedly held them wide open, that they might dry in the
sun.

"Ray?" It was Radley's voice, but I wilfully paid no attention.

In a second he had laid violent hands on me and swung me round, so
that I was held facing him.

"What? Crying, Ray? That's a luxury we men must deny ourselves."

It seems, as I recall it, a fine sentence, but at that moment, when
I wanted to be a wild ass among men, it was a _lie_. The hot blood
flooded my forehead. "I'm _not_ crying!" I snapped, keeping my face
upturned, my eyes fixed on his, and my teeth firmly set, that he
might see that he had lied.

"No, of course you're not. But come, now, Ray, what's the matter?
Out with it! There's nobody but me to hear you. And I understand."

I didn't want him to speak kindly to me, for I hated him. So I said
in a rapid, trembling voice:

"I've got a thousand lines from Mr. Fillet. I didn't deserve them
and I'm not going to do them!"

Immediately I felt that a catastrophe had occurred--that an edifice,
which had been standing a second ago, was now no more. Before that
sentence I had faced a kindly friend, now I faced an offended
master. But, though I knew the ruin my words had wrought, I indulged
a glow of self-righteousness and was prepared to relate my defiance
to an approving world.

"Come with me," commanded Radley. Swinging round, he walked towards
his room. At first I remained at the window without moving, and
waited for him to turn his head and tell me a second time to come.
But he walked on, never entertaining the thought of my not obeying
him. And I followed, armed with indifference. It was a pity that
walking behind him should give me so fine a view of his splendid
proportions and inflate me with strange aspirations, for I hated the
man and _wanted_ to do so. I hated him--let no other thought replace
that.

He led me to his room and said "Come in." I entered and, when I had
closed the door, looked aimlessly about, taking little interest in
the suggestive fact that Radley was opening a cupboard. There was
little change