As they approached the barge he saw that while Constance had Radowitz on her right, Sorell of St. Cyprian’s stood on the other side of her. Ah, no doubt, that accounted for it. Sorell had been originally at “the House,” was still a lecturer there, and very popular. He had probably invited the Hoopers with their niece. It was, of course, the best barge in the best position. Falloden remembered how at the Vice-Chancellor’s party Sorell had hovered about Constance, assuming a kind of mild guardianship; until he himself had carried her off. Why? What on earth had she to do with Sorell? Well, he must find out. Meanwhile, she clearly did not intend to take any further notice of his neighbourhood. Sorell and Radowitz absorbed her. They were evidently explaining the races to her, and she stood between them, a docile and charming vision, turning her graceful head from side to side. Falloden and his party crossed her actual line of sight. But she took no further notice; and he heard her laugh at something Radowitz was saying. “Oh, Mr. Falloden, is that you—and Lady Laura! This is a pleasure!” He turned to see a lady whom he cordially detested—a head’s wife, who happened to be an “Honourable,” the daughter of a small peer, and terribly conscious of the fact. She might have reigned in Oxford; she preferred to be a much snubbed dependent of London, and the smart people whose invitations she took such infinite trouble to get. For she was possessed of two daughters, tall and handsome girls, who were an obsession to her, an irritation to other people, and a cause of blushing to themselves. Her instinct for all men of family or title to be found among the undergraduates was amazingly extensive and acute; and she had paid much court to Falloden, as the prospective heir to a marquisate. He had hitherto treated her with scant attention, but she was not easily abashed, and she fastened at once on Lady Laura, whom she had seen once at a London ball. “Where are you going, Lady Laura? To Marmion? Oh, no! Come on to our barge, you will see so much better, and save yourself another dusty bit of walk. Here we are!” And she waved her parasol gaily towards a barge immediately ahead, belonging to one of the more important colleges. Lady Laura looked doubtfully at her son. Falloden suddenly accepted, and with the utmost cordiality. “That’s really very good of you, Mrs. Manson! I shall certainly advise my mother to take advantage of your kind offer. But you can’t do with all of us!” He pointed smiling to Trix and Roger. “Of course I can! The more the merrier!” And the lively lady stooped, laid an affectionate hand on Roger’s shoulder, and said in a stage aside—“Our ices are very good!” Roger hastily retreated. The starting-gun had boomed—communicating the usual thrill and sudden ripple of talk through the crowded barges. “Now they’re off!”