He was nineteen, and in the morning he was going to Oxford to begin his first term there.

He had so long looked forward to it that he felt dazed by the nearness of his goal.

He was a good-looking boy, with honest eyes and a firm mouth.
His only sister, Jean, four years older than himself, left the table and sat on the edge of the box watching him.

She did not offer to help, for she knew that every man knows best how to pack his own books, but she hummed a gay tune to prove to herself how happy was the occasion, and once she patted David's grey tweed shoulder as he leant over her.
Perhaps she felt that he needed encouragement this last night at home.
Jock, the other brother, a schoolboy of fourteen, with a rough head and a voice over which he had no control, was still at the tea-table.

He was rather ashamed of his appetite, but ate doggedly.