Cromwell's Own - A Story of the Great Civil War #262138

What can I say? How can I write it down? He cried aloud, dashing his pen on the table with a splutter, and making two more blots. It will nigh kill him with grief. If I'd but told him last home-coming, when there was only fifty pounds to pay! He would have grieved grieved sore, and spent a night, maybe, in prayer, dear heart! But then it would have been over. I would have sworn never to play again, and kept my word. I have always done that at least. I would have worked heart and soul this term to make up for lost time, and even pleased Master Ward and made him smile, if a tutor ever smiles. Now! Oh, I cannot tell him!