Father Dunleavy kicked off the festivities with his address. “No more,” he warned from the podium. “Ragging season is done, boys.” He looked pointedly at a bland-faced Martin. “I expect all of you to treat each other cordially, as professionals and as gentlemen.” Later, he summoned Martin into his office. “I have my eye on you, Thomas,” he told him. Any more untoward incidents and proof or not, Martin would have him to answer to. If Devanna in particular were to walk into one more door, he would have no choice but to suspend Martin. Martin had blustered angrily at the unfairness of it all, but had been unable to meet the Father’s eyes. “Tattletale!” he later raged at Devanna, spittle flecking the latter’s face. “Bloody snitch, I’ll get you for this.” Not daring to lay another hand on Devanna, Martin let it be known through the hostel that from now on, nobody was to acknowledge Devanna’s presence, let alone speak to him. If he saw anyone so much as glance at Devanna, there would be hell to pay.
