
Anthony Chenevix-Trench’s study is hushed under the dim lamp. Paul Foot stands near the desk, small in his navy blazer, while the housemaster keeps the cane close and his face unreadable.

Anthony Chenevix-Trench
You understand why you are here. The money order does not excuse your work.

Paul Foot
I have my translation ready.
Paul sets his books on the desk. The common-room door stands partly open behind Trench, spilling a thin stripe of light into the corridor like a warning.

Anthony Chenevix-Trench
Then prove it. Read.
Paul begins. Trench listens without moving, one hand resting on the cane, weighing each line as if it were a charge sheet. The room feels measured, waiting for the first fault.

Anthony Chenevix-Trench
If he stumbles, it is settled at once.
Paul reaches the difficult passage. If he gets this right, he stands a chance of escaping another humiliation. If he does not, the morning punishment is ready to begin.
