“I’ve realised,” said Sandys, as they dressed, twenty minutes later. “You’re thinking ahead. That’s why you won’t kiss me, or tell Ellwood you’re in love with him.” “I’m not in love with him.” “You’re anticipating what they’ll say about you, when you’re forty and still a bachelor. ‘Oh, Gaunt was utterly decent at school. None of that naughty schoolboy amorousness. No, Gaunt’s an upstanding fellow.’ That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” Gaunt fixed his tie. “I’m not thinking at all,” he said, more honestly than he had intended.
