They went back, and now Bruce began to show off his rowing powers. He
had not practised for a long time, and didn't get along very quickly.
She admired his athletic talents, as though he had been a winner of the
Diamond Sculls.
'If I'd stuck to it, you know,' he said, rather apologetically, 'I'd have done well in the rowing line. At one time—a good while ago—I thought of going in for Henley, in the Regatta, you know. But with that beastly Foreign Office one can't keep up anything of that sort.'
'I suppose not.'
'My muscle,' said Bruce, sticking out his arm, and hitting it rather hard, 'is fairly good, you know. Not bad for a London man who never has any practice.'
'No indeed.'
'My arm was about seventeen inches round just below the elbow at one time,' Bruce said, 'a few years ago.'
'Just fancy! Splendid!' said Madame Frabelle, who remembered that her waist was not much more a good while ago.
He told her a good many anecdotes of his prowess in the past, until tea-time.
Madame Frabelle depended greatly on tea; anything else she could do without. But a cup of tea in the afternoon was necessary to her well-being, and her animation. She became rather drowsy and absent by four o'clock.
Bruce again suggested their landing and leaving the Belle of the
River, as they had not thought of bringing a tea-basket.