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behind him.
              ‘He got off because he’s a cripple,’ he said angrily.
              Philip stood silent and flushed. He felt that they looked
            at him with contempt.
              ‘How many did you get?’ one boy asked Singer.
              But  he  did  not  answer.  He  was  angry  because  he  had
            been hurt
              ‘Don’t ask me to play Nibs with you again,’ he said to
           Philip. ‘It’s jolly nice for you. You don’t risk anything.’
              ‘I didn’t ask you.’
              ‘Didn’t you!’
              He quickly put out his foot and tripped Philip up. Philip
           was always rather unsteady on his feet, and he fell heavily
           to the ground.
              ‘Cripple,’ said Singer.
              For the rest of the term he tormented Philip cruelly, and,
           though Philip tried to keep out of his way, the school was so
            small that it was impossible; he tried being friendly and jol-
            ly with him; he abased himself, so far as to buy him a knife;
            but though Singer took the knife he was not placated. Once
            or twice, driven beyond endurance, he hit and kicked the
            bigger boy, but Singer was so much stronger that Philip was
           helpless, and he was always forced after more or less torture
           to beg his pardon. It was that which rankled with Philip:
           he could not bear the humiliation of apologies, which were
           wrung from him by pain greater than he could bear. And
           what made it worse was that there seemed no end to his
           wretchedness; Singer was only eleven and would not go to
           the upper school till he was thirteen. Philip realised that he

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