"She hasn’t married any groom," cried Titania, furiously. "I am perfectly certain it is the Marquis of Rivaulx." She was certain of nothing. Bradstock was certain of nothing. They both asked Bob what he was certain of, and Bob replied all the lovers were in such a state of mind that it couldn’t be any of them. And then at last Titania hit upon a certain truth. "Whoever it is would be just as miserable as all the others," she said. "He’ll be sorry now that he agreed to it, and he’ll be asking her to give in, and she won’t. And they’ll quarrel." "You’re right, Titania," cried Bradstock, slapping his thigh. "Bob, I believe the most miserable of them all is the man. Which is the most miserable?" Bob thought. "Gordon cried a little." "Ha!" said the duchess. "But Rivaulx cried a good deal," said Bob. "Oh," said the duchess. "But which do you think it is, Robert?" "I think it’s Timothy Bunting," said Bob. "And I want to go to Oxford to find out if he’s there. Baker says—" "Do you discuss these matters with Baker?" demanded his grandmother, haughtily. "He knows a great deal about the world," said Bob, "and about Bunting, you know. Baker says—" "You may go to Oxford," cried Titania, "and I will go to bed and stay there. I am a most unhappy woman, and Goring does not care!" So Bob went to Oxford all by himself, and called upon an undergraduate who had just come up from Harrow, one of the schools which Bob had been requested to leave on account of pugilism. Jack Harcourt was four years Bob’s senior, but could not fight so well in spite of that, and there was much more equality between them than would seem possible at first sight. But then it is almost impossible to feel very much superior to a boy who has knocked you absolutely senseless, as Bob did Harcourt. And Bob was one of those boys who make all the world equal. He was familiar with princes, and said "Baker says" to cabinet ministers. And if his uncle didn’t marry, he was bound to be a duke. Dukes are very important people, somehow, and the fact that Bob never showed any side was much in his favour over and above that important fact. "I say, is there a man up here called Bunting?" asked Bob. And Harcourt, after consulting a calendar, said there was. "Timothy Bunting?" asked Bob, jumping as if he were shot. "Thomas," said Harcourt. "Oh, he’d say Thomas, I dare say," said Bob. And he told Harcourt all about it. "Do you think she’s married him?" asked the undergraduate. "Who knows what girls will do?" said Bob. "Don’t you remember the black-eyed one in the pastry-cook’s at Harrow who wouldn’t look at you and was in love with that beast Black?" Harcourt did remember, but changed the conversation as quickly as possible. "This fellow is at All Saints," he said. "I dare say, they’d let a groom in there."