There was a noise of rising and dressing and washing in the dormitory: a noise of clapping of hands as the prefect went up and down telling the fellows to look sharp. In the soft grey silence he could hear the bump of the balls: and from here and from there through the quiet air the sound of the cricket bats: pick, pack, pock, puck: like drops of water in a fountain falling softly in the brimming bowl. It was precisely the first night during this series that, weary with watching, I had felt that I might again without laxity lay myself down at my old hour. We will meet aggression and bad faith with resolve and strength.
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