By murdering in cold blood a large and respected family, and afterwardsdepositing their bodies in a reservoir, one may gain, we are told, muchunpopularity in the neighbourhood of one's crime; while robbing achurch will get one cordially disliked especially by the vicar. But, tobe really an outcast, to feel that one has no friend in the world, onemust break an important public-school commandment.

　　Sheen had always been something of a hermit. In his most sociablemoments he had never had more than one or two friends; but he had neverbefore known what it meant to be completely isolated. It was likeliving in a world of ghosts, or, rather, like being a ghost in a livingworld. That disagreeable experience of being looked through, as if onewere invisible, comes to the average person, it may be half a dozentimes in his life. Sheen had to put up with it a hundred times a day.

　　People who were talking to one another stopped when he appeared andwaited until he had passed on before beginning again. Altogether, hewas made to feel that he had done for himself, that, as far as the lifeof the school was concerned, he did not exist.

　　There had been some talk, particularly in the senior day-room, of moreactive measures. It was thought that nothing less than a court-martialcould meet the case. But the house prefects had been against it. Sheenwas in the sixth, and, however monstrous and unspeakable might havebeen his acts, it would hardly do to treat him as if he were a junior.

　　And the scheme had been definitely discouraged by Drummond, who hadstated, without wrapping the gist of his remarks in elusive phrases,that in the event of a court-martial being held he would interview thepresident of the same and knock his head off. So Seymour's had fallenback on the punishment which from their earliest beginnings the publicschools have meted out to their criminals. They had cut Sheen dead.

　　In a way Sheen benefited from this excommunication. Now that he couldnot even play fives, for want of an opponent, there was nothing leftfor him to do but work. Fortunately, he had an object. The Gotfordwould be coming on in a few weeks, and the more work he could do forit, the better. Though Stanning was the only one of his rivals whom hefeared, and though _he_ was known to be taking very little troubleover the matter, it was best to run as few risks as possible. Stanningwas one of those people who produce great results in their work withoutseeming to do anything for them.

　　So Sheen shut himself up in his study and ground grimly away at hisbooks, and for exercise went for cross-country walks. It was amonotonous kind of existence. For the space of a week the onlyWrykinian who spoke a single word to him was Bruce, the son of theConservative candidate for Wrykyn: and Bruce's conversation had beenlimited to two remarks. He had said, "You might play that again, willyou?" and, later, "Thanks". He had come into the music-room while Sheenwas practising one afternoon, and had sat down, without speaking, on achair by the door. When Sheen had played for the second time the piecewhich had won his approval, Bruce thanked him and left the room. As thesolitary break in the monotony of the week, Sheen remembered theincident rather vividly.