his compressed mouth; from it alone they might have seen that he was miserable, but they could not possibly have guessed why.
Neither did Jan when he chased Evan to his study immediately after chapel.
"It's all right, Evan! You've got to play, if you don't mind!"
"Who says so?" cried Evan, swinging round.
Of course it was not his old study, but it was just as dark inside, like all the Lodge studies leading straight out into the quad; and Jan very naturally misconstrued the angry tone, missing altogether its note of alarm.
"I do, of course. I was awfully sorry ever to leave you out, but what else was I to do? Thank goodness you've got your chance again, and I only hope you'll make a century!"
Jan was keen to the point of fervour; no ill-will of any sort or kind, not even the reflex resentment of an unpopular character, seemed to survive in his mind. His delight on his friend's behalf seemed almost to have restored his confidence in himself.
"Then I'll see if I can't bowl a bit," he added, "and between us we'll make Charles Cave & Co. sit up!"
"I—I don't think I'm awfully keen on playing, thank you," said Evan, in a wavering voice of would-be stiffness.
"You are!"
"I'm not, really, thanks all the same."
"But you can't refuse to play for the school, just because I simply was obliged"
"It isn't that!" snapped Evan from his heart. It was too late to recall it. He did not try. He stood for some time without adding a syllable, and then—"I thought I wasn't even twelfth man?" he sneered.
