That was a long time ago then out on the playgrounds in the evening light, creeping from point to point on the fringe of his line, a heavy bird flying low through the grey light. If at moments he felt an impulse to rise from his post of honour and, confessing before them all his unworthiness, to leave the chapel, a glance at their faces restrained him. The rector looked at him again in silence. Such is the language of those fiendish tormentors, words of taunting and of reproach, of hatred and of disgust.
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