s side, glanced
from one to the other of her companions, her never-failing interest in
_people_ discovering a story in each new group.

They had reached the middle of the stream, when a movement of the deck
upset her balance, and sent her swaying against Ralph's arm. She looked
up with a laughing apology, and was startled by the sight of his face.
So far was he from sharing her amusement, that never in the course of
their acquaintance had she seen him so pale, so set. He seized the hand
she had laid on his arm, and held it in a vice-like grip, as he bent to
look at the deck. At that moment Darsie stumbled afresh, and felt the
lapping of water against her thinly clad feet. She exclaimed loudly,
but her voice was drowned in the chorus of cries, questions, and appeals
which arose from every side.

How swiftly, with what incredible, paralysing speed a scene may change,
and seeming security give way to panic fear! Darsie, turning her head
to look at the crowd of faces which towered so strangely above her, met
but one expression in every eye--breathless, agonising dread.

Looking back upon the scene in after-life, it seemed the nightmare of a
moment; then the grip upon her arm tightened, she felt herself being
pushed past Ralph towards the edge of the boat, heard his voice speaking
to her in crisp, firm tones which she had heard in dreams, but never,
never from his living lips.

"Darsie! She's turning turtle! There's no danger, darling, if you jump
clear. The water's not deep. Some one will come. I'm going to throw
you in. Strike out for your life!"

She was lifted like a doll in his strong arms; her wild eyes, searching
his, met a cheery smile in response, she felt herself swayed to and fro,
realised with a shudder the parting from the firm grasp--fell, splashed,
felt the water close over her head.

When she rose to the surface the water near her seemed full of
struggling forms; she caught a terrified glimpse of a perpendicular
deck, of passengers falling like flies from their perch, and with the
instinct of despair struck out in the opposite direction.

Like most Newnham girls, she was a fair swimmer--happy hours spent in
the swimming-tent had ensured so much; but it was her first experience
of fighting the water in all the crippling fineries of race-week attire.
Her shoes, her skirts, the floating ends of sash and scarf all held her
down; her soaking hat flopped over her eyes, her very gloves seemed to
l