Never trouble Corker more than you can help, old man.
That's a tip for you when I'm gone. Besides, masters generally mishandle
affairs of this sort. I rather fancy I'll put it to Aspinall when he pulls
through."
"Do. One thing, though, is pretty certain. He'll never get his cap as long
as I'm captain of the footer eleven. I'd rather come out of it myself."
"Of course. I see there's no help for that, but, all the same, it will
make complications. What a pity he _can_ play!"
"It is, for he is a back out of a thousand."
Bourne's voice had in it a ring of genuine regret, and whilst I could
almost have smiled at his unaffectedly tragic tone, I could see the vista
which his resolution opened up. I heard the school shouting at Bourne to
let the finest player out of the eleven in, and all the shouting would be
across "seas of misunderstanding." I know Bourne saw the difficulties
himself, and he left my study soon after with a rather anxious look on his
face. Personally I determined not to think about the matter until I had
seen Aspinall. From the very first I had never expected any help from
Acton. There was something about the whole of his bearing in the caddish
business that told me plainly that we would have to treat him, not as a
fellow who had been betrayed to a vile action by a beastly temper and was
bitterly sorry for it, but as a fellow who hated us for finding it out.
I saw Aspinall two days later, and as we walked towards the station I
broached the matter.
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