"Yes. But he would hardly speak to me. He said we'd perhaps spoilt his
life."

"Whose?"

"Radowitz's."

Falloden's expression stiffened.

"That's nonsense. If he's properly treated, he'll get all right. Besides
it was a pure accident. How could any of us know those broken pipes
were there?"

"Well, I shall be glad when we get Wood's opinion," said Meyrick
gloomily. "It does seem hard lines on a fellow who plays that it should
have been his hand. But of course--as you say, Duggy--it'll probably be
all right. By the way, Sorell told me Radowitz had absolutely refused to
let anybody in college know--any of the dons--and had forbidden Sorell
himself to say a word."

"Well of course that's more damaging to us than any other line of
action," said Falloden drily. "I don't know that I shall accept it--for
myself. The facts had better be known."

"Well, you'd better think of the rest of us," said Meyrick. "It would
hit Robertson uncommonly hard if he were sent down. If Radowitz is
badly hurt, and the story gets out, they won't play him for
the Eleven--"

"If he's badly hurt, it will get out," said Falloden coolly.

"Well, let it alone, anyway, till we see."

Falloden nodded--"Barring a private friend or two. Well, I must dress."

When he opened the door again, Meyrick was gone.

In an unbearable fit of restlessness, Falloden went out, passed Marmion,
looked into the quad which was absolutely silent and deserted, and found
his way aimlessly to the Parks.

He must see Constance Bledlow, somehow, before the story reached her
from other sources, and before everybody separated for the vac. A large
Nuneham party had been arranged by the Mansons for the following day in
honour of the ex-Ambassador and his wife, who were prolonging their stay
in Christ Church so as to enjoy the river and an Oxford without crowds
or functions. Falloden was invited, and he knew that Constance had been
asked. In his bitterness of the day before, after their quarrel in the
wood, he had said to himself that he would certainly go down before the
party. Now he thought he would stay.

Suddenly, as he was walking back along the Cherwell edge of the park,
under a grey sky with threatening clouds, he became aware of a lady in
front of him. Annoying or remorseful thought became in a moment
excitement. It was impossible to mistake the springing step and tall
slenderness of Constance Bledlow.

He rapidly weighed the pros and cons of overtaking he