The junior common room is nearly empty. The fire has fallen to a red, uneven glow, and the lamps cast long shadows across abandoned chairs and scattered books.
Paul remains by the cold fireplace after assembly, while Willie Rushton and Christopher Brooker slip in from the dormitories. No prefect follows them; the door settles shut behind.
Willie Rushton
The official version is that your money order is safe. The unofficial version is that nobody intends to let you see it again soon.
Christopher Brooker
I heard the headmaster call it an inquiry, not a punishment. That distinction may matter, though Chenevix-Trench plainly hopes it will not.
Willie perches on an abandoned chair, his ink-stained fingers worrying a loose thread. Christopher remains standing, notebook tucked beneath one arm, listening toward the corridor.
Willie Rushton
We cannot overrule masters, Foot. But we can remember precisely what was said, and make it harder for them to improve the story afterward.
Christopher Brooker
Tell us what happened after we left the chapel. Then we can decide what, if anything, ought to be written down.