Up rolled a mighty roar from the lower reaches of the river as the boats came in sight, “Univ” leading; and the crowd of running and shouting men came rushing along the towing-path.  “Univ” was gallantly “bumped” in front of its own barge, and Magdalen went head of the river.  A delirious twenty minutes followed.  Bump crashed on bump.  The river in all its visible length flashed with the rising and falling oars—­the white bodies of the rowers strained back and forth.  But it was soon over, and only the cheering for the victorious crews remained; and the ices—­served to the visitors!—­of which Roger was not slow to remind his hostess.

The barges emptied, and the crowd poured out again into the meadows.  Just outside the Christ Church barge, Constance with Nora beside her, and escorted by Sorell and Lord Meyrick, lifted a pair of eyes to a tall fellow in immaculate flannels and a Harrow cap.  She had been aware of his neighbourhood, and he of hers, long before it was possible to speak.  Falloden introduced his mother.  Then he resolutely took possession of Constance.

“I hope you approve what I have been doing about the mare?”

“I am of course most grateful.  When am I to try her?”

“I shall take her out to-morrow afternoon.  Then I’ll report.”

“It is extremely kind of you.”  The tone was strictly conventional.

He said nothing; and after a minute she could not help looking up.  She met an expression which showed a wounded gentleman beside her.

“I hope you saw the races well?” he said coldly.

“Excellently.  And Mr. Sorell explained everything.”

“You knew him before?”

“But of course!” she said, laughing.  “I have known him for years.”

“You never mentioned him—­at Cannes.”

“One does not always catalogue one’s acquaintance, does one?”

“He seems to be more than an acquaintance.”

“Oh, yes.  He is a great friend.  Mamma was so fond of him.  He went with us to Sicily once.  And Uncle Ewen likes him immensely.”

“He is of course a paragon,” said Falloden.

Constance glanced mockingly at her companion.

“I don’t see why he should be called anything so disagreeable.  All we knew of him was—­that he was delightful!  So learned—­and simple—­and modest—­the dearest person to travel with!  When he left us at Palermo, the whole party seemed to go flat.”

“You pile it on!”

“Not at all.  You asked me if he were more than an acquaintance.  I am giving you the facts.”

“I don’t enjoy them!” said Falloden abruptly.

She burst into her soft laugh.

“I’m so sorry.  But I really can’t alter them.  Where has my party gone to?”

She looked ahead, and saw that by a little judicious holding back Falloden had dexterously isolated her both from his own group and hers.  Mrs. Manson and Lady Laura were far ahead in the wide, moving crowd that filled the new-made walk across the Christ Church meadow; so were the Hoopers and the slender figure and dark head of Alexander Sorell.