Mr. Whately looked at himself in the glass as he dried his hands. It was a withered face that looked back at him; the face of a bank clerk who had risen with some industry and much privation to a position of authority; a face that was lined and marked and undistinguished; the face of a man who had never asserted himself. Mr. Whately turned from his own reflection and looked at his son, so strong, and fresh and eager; unmarked as yet by trouble and adversity. Who was he, a scrubby, middle-aged little man, emptied of energy and faith, with his life behind him--who was he to impose his will on anyone?
He followed his son into the dining room and picked up the menu; but he did not know what to choose, and handed the card across to Roland. Roland ordered the meal; the waiter rubbed his hands, and father and son sat opposite each other, oppressed by a situation that was new to them. Roland waited for his father to begin. During the last thirty-six hours he had been interviewed by three different masters, all of whom had, in their way, tried to impress upon him the enormity of his offense. He was by now a little tired of the subject. He wanted to know what punishment had been fixed for him. He had heard enough of the moral aspect of the case. “These people treat me as though I were a fool,” he had said to Brewster. “To hear the way they talked one would imagine that I had never thought about the damnable business at all. They seem to expect me to fall down, like St. Paul before Damascus, and exclaim: ‘Now, all is clear to me!’ But, damn it all, I knew what I was doing. I’d thought it all out. I’m not going to do the conversion stunt just because I’ve been found out.” He expected his father to go over the old ground--influence, position, responsibility. He prepared himself to listen. But as his father did not begin, and as the soup did not arrive, Roland felt it was incumbent upon him to say something.
“A great game that against Yorkshire?” he said.
“Don’t you remember, about a fortnight ago, the Middlesex and Yorkshire match? Middlesex had over two hundred to get and only three hours to get them in. They’re a fine side this year.”
And within two minutes they were discussing cricket as they had discussed it so often before. At first they talked to cover their embarrassment, but soon they had become really interested in the subject.