In fact, it seemed as if, like Jonah, the throwing of me overboard had brought fine weather all round.
Still I was not going to give in.

Draven's should be ashamed of itself before I met it half way! So I watched with satisfaction my face growing pale day by day, and I aided this new departure in my favour by eating less than usual, giving up outdoor exercise, and staying up late over my lessons.
I calculated that at the rate I was going I should be reduced to skin and bones by the end of my term, and perhaps at my funeral Draven's would own they had wronged me.

At present, however, my pallor seemed to escape their observation, and as for my late hours, all the good they did me was an imposition from Mr Draven for breaking rules.
As the days went on, I seemed to have dropped altogether out of life.

I might have been invisible, for anything any one seemed to see of me.
Even the masters appeared to have joined in the conspiracy to ignore me, and for a whole week I sat at my solitary desk without hearing the sound of my own voice.
My readers may scoff when I tell them that at the end of a fortnight I felt like running away.

The silence and isolation which had amused me at first became a slow torture at last, and, poor-spirited wretch that I was, my only comfort was in now and then crying in bed in the dark.
I made up for this secret weakness by putting on a swagger in public, and rendered myself ridiculous in consequence.