y more of that. You may go," he said, and
he actually pointed to the door. "But--" I began----

"You may go," he repeated, and since he looked as if he would continue
pointing towards the door until I obeyed him, I collected the pages on
which I had spent so much labour and walked slowly out of the room. I
was too surprised to say anything more, and I did not even feel like
banging the door. The only thought which occurred to me was that there
must have been something very improper in that cherished sentence, but
if my tutor imagined that I took any pleasure in indecencies, or would
write them consciously, I felt that he was a very silly man. I stopped
on the stairs and began reading my essay again; there was simply
nothing in the beginning of it which could offend the most inquisitive
and conscientious Mrs. Grundy. It might have bored any one, but the
person who could have blushed at it had not yet been born.

I was most completely puzzled, and when I went back to my rooms and
laid my rejected essay upon the table, I felt as if the only literature
I wished to see again was the Commination Service. It had often been
my fate to displease masters and dons, but it was a new experience for
me to be turned out of a room without knowing in the least why I was
expected to go. I came to the unsatisfying conclusion that Edwardes
had gone mad, and I determined to see Murray so that I might tell him
what had happened; but before I had finished writing a note which had
to be written, both Murray and Foster came into my rooms.

"Foster has got something to tell you," Murray said.

"Not half as much as I have got to tell you," I answered.

"I will bet you a shilling you think it more important, and you can
decide yourself," Murray replied.

I crammed my note into an envelope and looked at Fred, who was gazing,
rather stupidly I thought, at a photo of Nina which she had sent me a
few days before.

"How many did you make against Surrey this afternoon?" I asked him.

Murray began to laugh, which suggested to me that I was asking an
awkward question. "Was it another blob?" I inquired.

"I made a hundred and two," Foster said, and looked quickly at me and
then again at that wretched photo. I expect he was very anxious not to
seem too pleased with himself, but there was no reason why I should not
be as pleased as I liked, and for a minute I forgot all about Mr.
Edwardes. I told Fred that he was simply a certainty for hi