"To-night's only an armistice, Sylvia," he stipulated. "I must have time to think. I'm not committed either way."
She gave him her old friendly smile.
"If you like." Then the smile melted away. "My ultimatum comes in force to-morrow morning, though. You must make up your mind then."
CHAPTER VIII[ToC]
HENLEY—AND AFTER
"We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman."—Colley Cibber: "Love's Last Shift."
Henley Regatta was something of a disappointment to me. I had furbished up the memories of twenty years before—which was one mistake—and was looking forward to it—which was another. In great measure the glory had departed from the house-boats, every one poured into the town by train or car, and the growth of ad hoc riverside clubs had reduced the number of punts and canoes on the river itself. Being every inch as much a snob as my neighbour, I regretted to find Henley so deeply democratised....