“Nobody else is to ride her, please, till the lady I am acting for has tried her,” he said peremptorily to Fox.  “I shall try her myself to-morrow.  And what about a groom?—­a decent fellow, mind, with a decent livery.”

He saw a possible man and another horse, reserving both provisionally.  Then he walked hurriedly to his lodgings to see if by any chance there were a note for him there.  He had wired to his mother the day before, telling her to write to Constance Bledlow and Mrs. Hooper by the evening’s post, suggesting that, on Thursday before the Eights, Lady Laura should pick her up at Medburn House, take her to tea at Falloden’s lodgings and then on to the Eights.  Lady Laura was to ask for an answer addressed to the lodgings.

He found one—­a little note with a crest and monogram he knew well.

     Medburn House.

“Dear Mr. Falloden,—­I am very sorry I can not come to tea to-morrow.  But my aunt and cousins seem to have made an engagement for me.  No doubt I shall see Lady Laura at the boats.  My aunt thanks her for her kind letter.

     “Yours very truly,

     “Constance Bledlow.”

Falloden bit his lip.  He had reckoned on an acceptance, having done everything that had been prescribed to him; and he felt injured.  He walked on, fuming and meditating, to Vincent’s Club, and wrote a reply.

“DEAR LADY CONSTANCE,—­A thousand regrets!  I hope for better luck next time.  Meanwhile, as you say, we shall meet to-morrow at the Eights.  I have spent much time to-day in trying to find you a horse, as we agreed.  The mare I told you of is really a beauty.  I am going to try her to-morrow, and will report when we meet.  I admire your nepticular (I believe neptis is the Latin for niece) docility!

     “Yours sincerely,

     “DOUGLAS FALLODEN.”

“Will that offend her?” he thought.  “But a pin-prick is owed.  I was distinctly given to understand that if the proprieties were observed, she would come.”

In reality, however, he was stimulated by her refusal, as he was by all forms of conflict, which, for him, made the zest of life.

He shut himself up that evening and the following morning with his Greats work.  Then he and Meyrick rushed up to the racket courts in the Parks for an hour’s hard exercise, after which, in the highest physical spirits, a splendid figure in his white flannels, with the dark blue cap and sash of the Harrow Eleven—­(he had quarrelled with the captain of the Varsity Eleven very early in his Oxford career, and by an heroic sacrifice to what he conceived to be his dignity had refused to let himself be tried for it)—­he went off to meet his mother and sister at the railway station.

It was, of course, extremely inconsiderate of his mother to be coming at all in these critical weeks before the schools.  She ought to have kept away.  And yet he would be very glad to see her—­and Nelly.  He was fond of his home people, and they of him.  They were his belongings—­and they were Fallodens.  Therefore his strong family pride accepted them, and made the most of them.