when a man realises that
some of the lost time is gone forever, and that the last struggle
is upon him.

"What I am doing now is degrading!--getting 'tips' from the
tutors--pinning up lists--beastly names and dates--in my rooms--learning
hard bits by heart--cribbing and stealing all I can. And I have still
some of my first year's work to go through again. I must cut Oxford for
the last fortnight--and go into retreat."

Constance expressed her wonder that any one could ever do any work in
the summer term--

"You are all so busy lunching each other's Sisters and cousins and
aunts! It is a great picnic--not a university," she said flippantly.

"Distracting, I admit--but--"

He paused.

"But--what?"

After a moment, he turned a glowing countenance towards her.

"That is not my chief cause of flight!"

She professed not to understand.

"It is persons distract me--not tea-parties. Persons I want to be seeing
and talking to--persons I can not keep myself away from."

He looked straight before him. The horses ambled on together, the reins
on their necks. In the distance a cuckoo called from the river meadows,
and round the two young figures one might have fancied an attendant
escort of birds, as wrens, tits, pippets, fled startled by
their approach.

Constance laughed. The laugh, though very musical, was sarcastic.

"I don't see you as a shuttlecock!"

"Tossed by the winds of fate? You think I can always make myself do what
I wish?"

"That's how I read you--at present."

'Hm--a charming character! Everything calculated--nothing spontaneous.
That I think is what you mean?"

"No. But I doubt your being carried away."

He flushed hotly.

"Lady Connie!--"

He paused. Her colour rushed too. She saw what he was thinking of; she
perceived her blunder.

"For what else did you castigate me at Cannes?" he said, in a low voice.
And his black eyes looked passionately into hers. But she recovered
herself quickly.

"At any rate, you have more will than most people," she said lightly.
"Aren't you always boasting of it? But you are quite right to go away."

"I am not going for a week," he put in quickly. "There will be time for
two more rides."

She made no reply, and they paced on. Suddenly the trees began to thin
before them, and a splendid wave of colour swept across an open glade in
full sunlight.

"Marvellous!" cried Constance. "Oh, stop a moment!"

They pulled up on the brink of a sea of blue. All ar