She had brought him back. He wanted to say something generous.
“Lorie, he loves you. If he asks you again——”
She nodded. “If he asks me,” she said brokenly.
He walked along the edge of the river, golden in the early summer’s morning, silver with mists curling from off it. He plunged in at a point opposite the Calvary barge. As he swam, he looked back. From the coach, high on the arch of the bridge, her eyes followed him. Just before he landed, she raised the whip; the horses strained forward.
Running through the meadows, he came to the wall which went about Calvary, found a foothold and dropped safely over. After he had undressed, he hid his dripping clothing. He was in bed and sleeping soundly, when later in the morning his scout came to wake him.
CHAPTER XLIII—AN UNFINISHED POEM
Strong sunlight streamed across the foot of his bed. Below, in the quad, he could hear the clatter of breakfast-dishes being cleared away. Fumbling beneath his pillow, he pulled out his watch. Ten o’clock! Time he dressed and got to work! Less than a fortnight till his Finals, and he’d lost a day already!
A sound of running on the stairs! Someone was entering his outer room.