There at least I should have the society of the sympathetic Sadgrove, who, as I knew, felt as sore as I did about Potters behaviour.
But, to my mortification as well as perplexity, Sadgrove I found, had cleared out his desk and removed his goods and chattels to a seat on the row behind mine, where he appeared to have met with a cordial welcome from his new neighbours.
I could not make it out.

He always told me he liked his desk better than any, and would not change it even for Browne's.

And here he was, for no apparent reason, on a lower form, at a smaller desk, and in-- well, less select society.
As I sat in my place that morning, with an empty desk on each side of me, it began slowly to dawn on my mind that something was wrong somewhere.
The proceedings of Odger junior, Potter, Sadgrove, Williams, and Harrison, taken singly, were not of much importance, but taken as a whole I did not like them.

I might be wrong.

There might be no intention to cut me, and I could not think of anything I had done or said which would account for it.