“Isn’t this a bore?” Matthew asked Christopher and Thomas, the two boys James wanted for friends. “Everybody here looks like a dolt. I am already in frightful agony, contemplating my wasted youth. Don’t speak to me, or I shall break down and sob uncontrollably.” “There, there,” said Christopher, patting Matthew’s shoulder. “What are you upset about again?” “Your face, Lightwood,” said Matthew, and elbowed him.
