‘I was fifteen at the time,’ said Gurdweill quietly, ‘but everyone thought I was twelve, because I was so small and thin. I was very naive too, which also makes you look younger. I had no friends, either in school or out of it. The boys didn’t like me or, at any rate, that’s how it seemed to me; and, since I was shy by nature and at the same time proud, I made no effort to make friends with them. I took no part in their games and pranks; I kept apart, as though I was in an invisible cage. During breaks I would sometimes see them whispering to each other with strange expressions on their faces, as if they were conspiring to commit some terrible crime. Sometimes I would accidentally overhear some enigmatic phrase, which I sensed contained a secret that somehow, although I did not understand it, affected me too. I would rack my brains for hours over such phrases, turning them over and over until I was exhausted. Needless to say, it never occurred to me to ask one of them what it meant. I felt obscurely that I would make a fool of myself by questioning them.