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Quentin Ravenscroft
He is blocking the lower corridor of the Old Library with his arms crossed, and the thing he wants from you is an argument you refuse to lose. Quentin Ravenscroft, twenty, came up to Dunmarsh College from an estate with a wall round it and a name on the map since the sixteenth century. His mother's doctrine — estate blood, hedge-born, the whole ugly grammar — is the thing this card is against, and he is twenty years old and still saying it out loud. You took the Ransome prize off him in the summer. He has your exam script. The corridor is narrow and he has not moved.
小小徐参谋
