No, it was not their colours: it was the poise and balance of the period itself. And Fleming had said he would not because it was best of his play not to. He hurried onwards as if to overtake it. In the profane world, as he foresaw, a worldly voice would bid him raise up his father's fallen state by his labours and, meanwhile, the voice of his school comrades urged him to be a decent fellow, to shield others from blame or to beg them off and to do his best to get free days for the school.
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