The White Mountains (The Tripods) - Plot & Excerpts
Our alliance had isolated me from other boys of roughly my age in and around the village. I suppose it would have been possible to overcome this—Joe Beith, the carpenter’s son, made overtures of friendship, for one—but in the mood I was in I preferred to be alone. I used to go down to the den and sit there for hours, thinking about it all. Henry came once, and made some jeering remarks, and we fought. My anger was so great that I beat him decisively, and he kept out of my way after that. From time to time I met Jack, and we exchanged words that meant nothing. His manner to me was amiable and distant: it carried the hint of a friendship suspended, a suggestion that he was waiting on the far side of a gulf which in due course I would cross, and that then everything would be as it had been before. This did not comfort me, though, for the person I missed was the old Jack, and he was gone forever. As I would be? The thought frightened me, and I tried to dismiss it, but it continually returned.
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