joke the word must be to whoever is pulling the wires and making us
poor puppets dance at his pleasure. Pity that we have to pay the
piper so heavily for our involuntary jigging!"

A passage from the letter Waymark wrote to his friend Casti, on the
evening when his school-work came to an end. That night he sought
rest early, and slept well. The sensations with which he woke next
morning were such as he had not experienced for a long time. He was
at liberty,--with six pounds ten in his pocket. He could do what
he liked and go whither he liked,--till lack of a dinner should
remind him that a man's hardest master is his own body. He dressed
leisurely, and, having dressed, treated himself to an egg for
breakfast. Absolutely no need for hurry; the thought of school-hours
dismissed for ever; a horizon quite free from the vision of hateful
toil; in the real sky overhead a gleam of real sunshine, as if to
make credible this sudden change. His mood was still complete
recklessness, a revolt against the idea of responsibility,
indifference to all beyond the moment.

It was Thursday; the morrow would be Good Friday; after that the
intervention of two clear days before the commencement of a new week
In the meantime the sun was really shining, and the fresh spring air
invited to the open ways. Waymark closed the door of his room behind
him, and went downstairs, whistling to himself. But, before reaching
the bottom, he turned and went back again. It seemed warm enough to
sit in one of the parks and read. He laid his hand on a book, almost
at haphazard, to put in his pocket. Then he walked very leisurely
along Kennington Road, and on, and on, till he had crossed the
river.