Then, realising that the sun had gone in a blaze of glory, and that he must waste no further time in prolonged gossip, he dipped his blade into the still water, and turned the head of the boat for the Graysroof bank; and for the things that should be.

BOOK I FIVE GAY YEARS OF SCHOOL

Part I:  Tidal Reaches

CHAPTER I

RUPERT RAY BEGINS HIS STORY

Sec.1

“I’m the best-looking person in this room,” said Archibald Pennybet.  “Ray’s face looks as though somebody had trodden on it, and Doe’s—­well, Doe’s would be better if it had been trodden on.”

It was an early morning of the Kensingtowe Summer Term, and the three of us, Archie Pennybet, Edgar Gray Doe, and I, Rupert Ray, were waiting in the Junior Preparation Room at Bramhall House, till the bell should summon us over the playing fields to morning school.  Kensingtowe, of course, is the finest school in England, and Bramhall its best house.  Now, Pennybet, though not himself courteous, always insisted that Doe and I should treat him with proper respect, so, since he was senior and thus magnificent, I’ll begin by describing him.

He was right in saying that he was the handsomest.  He was a tall boy of fifteen years, with long limbs that were saved from any unlovely slimness by their full-fleshed curves and perfect straightness.  His face, whose skin was as smooth as that of a bathed and anointed Greek, was crowned by dark hair, and made striking by a pair of those long-lashed eyes that are always brown.  And in character he was the most remarkable.  Though two years our senior, he deliberately lagged behind the boys of his own age, and remained the oldest member of our form.  Thoughtless masters called him a dunce, but abler ones knew him to be only idle.  And Pennybet cared little for either opinion.  He had schemed to remain in a low form; and that was enough.  It was better to be a field-marshal among the “kids” than a ranker among his peers.  Like Satan, for whom he probably felt a certain admiration, he found it better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

The personal attendants of this splendid sultan consisted of Edgar Doe and myself.  We were not allowed by him to forget that, if he could total fifteen years, we could only scrape together a bare thirteen.  We were mere children.  Doe and I, being thirteen and an exact number of days, were twins, or we would have been, had it not been for the divergence of our parentage.  We often expressed a wish that this divergence were capable of remedy.  It involved minor differences.  For instance, while Doe’s eyes were brown, mine were blue; and while Doe’s hair was very fair, mine was a tedious drab that had once been gold.  Moreover, in place of my wide mouth, Doe possessed lips that were always parted like those of a pretty girl.  Indeed, if Archie Pennybet was the handsomest of us three, it is certain that Edgar Gray Doe was the prettiest.