“Here!” I shouted to the hurrying young man. “Sir!”
He turned around, and came back, and I realized it was Fitzwilliam, who I had classes with. “Ah,” he said, taking the umbrella I had picked up. His fingers brushed against mine. “Watson, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “Not much need for an umbrella in this weather, I know.”
“I’ll want it later, no doubt,” said Fitzwilliam. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
We stood in the alley between school buildings for a moment, until I realized I was staring and glanced down. “I’ve a class,” said Fitzwilliam.
“I’m just coming from one.”
“You should come out tonight,” he said quickly. “There’s a pub—the Three Bells, on Starcross Street. Come any time.”
“I will,” I said at once.
He smiled at me, and ran off to his class. I stood smiling at a brick wall for a full minute before I went on my way.