It is one thing to set a course, and another to steer it--of Henley this is probably truer than of any other stretch of water in the world. When half the punts are returning from island to post after luncheon, and the other half paddle down stream to look at the house-boats, the narrow water midway between start and finish becomes hopelessly, chaotically congested. One or two skiffs and dinghies--which should never be allowed at any regatta--make confusion worse confounded till a timely collision breaks their sculls, or the nose of a racing punt turns them turtle; and with the closing of the booms, three boats begin to sprout where only one was before.

Through a forest of dripping paddles, I watched punt, dinghy and canoe fighting, pressing, yielding; up-stream, down-stream, broad side on, they slid and trembled like a tesselated pavement in an earthquake.

The fatalists shipped their poles and paddles, and abandoned themselves to the line of least resistance. Faces grew flushed, but tempers remained creditably even....

"Mary, mother of God! it's our sad, bad, mad Seraph!"

Having exhausted the possibilities of the Three Card Trick, and being unable to secure either a pea or two thimbles, Paddy Culling had wandered to my side and was watching the crowd like a normal man.

I followed the direction of his eyes. The Seraph had turned fatalist and was being squeezed nearer and nearer the "Desdemona." A last vicious thrust by a boatload of pierrots jammed the box of his punt under our landing-stage. He waved a hand to me and began distributing bows among my guests.

"Droppit sthraight from Hiven," cried Culling with unnecessary elaboration of his already strong brogue. "The tay's wet, Mrs. Wylton, and we waiting for some one would ask a blessing. Seraph, yer ambrosia's on order."

They would not leave the punt, but we brought them tea; and a fair sprinkling of my guests testified to the success of our last few weeks' campaign by coming down to the raft and being civil to Elsie.

There was, of course, no commotion or excitement of any kind; of those who lingered on deck or in the saloon, fully half, I dare say, were unconscious of what was going on below. Such was certainly the case with Sylvia. While Paddy and I served out strawberries to the crew of the punt, she had been washing her hands for tea, and as we crowned a work of charity with a few cigars and a box of matches, she came out onto the raft for assistance with the clasp of a watch-bracelet.

Paddy volunteered his services, I looked on. Her eyes travelled idly over the crowded segment of river opposite my boat, and completed their circuit by resting on the punt and its occupants. Elsie bowed and received a slight inclination of the head in return. The Seraph bowed, and was accorded the most perfect cut I have ever witnessed.

Sylvia looked straight through him to a dinghy four yards the other side. It was superbly, insolently done. I have always been too lazy to cultivate the art of cutting my friends, but should occasion ever arise, I shall go to Sylvia for the necessary tuition.

As soon as the congestion was in some measure relieved, the Seraph waved good-bye to me and started paddling up stream towards Henley Bridge. Elsie had seen all that was to be seen in the cut, and--womanlike--had read into it a variety of meanings.

"I hope you're not tired," the Seraph said, as they landed and walked down to the station.

"I've had a lovely time," she answered. "Thanks most awfully for bringing me, and for all you've done these last few weeks. And before that." She hesitated, and then added with a regretful smile, "We must say good-bye after to-day."

"You're not going away?"

"Not yet; but you've got into enough trouble on my account without losing all your friends," she answered.

"But I haven't."

"You're risking one."

"On your account?"

She nodded.

He had not the brazenness to attempt a direct denial.

"Why should you think so?" he hedged.

"Seraph, dear child, I couldn't help seeing the way she took your bow.

I got you that cut."

"She doesn't cut Toby," he objected. "And he and I are equally incriminated."

"There is a difference."

"Is there?"

"She's quite indifferent how much _he_ soils his wings."

The Seraph was left to digest the unspoken antithesis. His face gradually lost the flush it had taken on after their encounter at the raft, his eyes grew calmer and his hands steadier; on the subject of their contention, however, he remained impenitent.

"I shan't say good-bye till you honestly tell me you don't want to see me again."

"You know I can't say that, Seraph."

"Very well, then."

"But it isn't! The good you do me is simply not worth the harm you do yourself. It didn't matter so much till Sylvia came to be reckoned with."

The Seraph shifted impatiently in his corner.

"Neither Sylvia Roden nor any other woman or man in the world is going to dictate who I may associate with, or who I mayn't."

"You must make an exception to the rule in her case."

"Why should I?"

"Every man has to make an exception to every rule in the case of one woman."

His chin achieved an uncompromising angle.

"To quote the Pharisee of blessed memory," he said, "I thank God I am not as other men."

Elsie was well enough acquainted with his moods to know nothing was to be gained by further direct opposition.

"I should like you to come to Chester Square," she compromised; "but you mustn't be seen with me in public any more."

"I shall ride in the Park to-morrow as usual," he persisted.

"I shan't be there, Seraph."

A surprise was awaiting me when Gladys and I returned to Pont Street in the early hours of Sunday morning, after waiting to see the fireworks--by immemorial tradition--extinguished by a tropical downpour. Brian notified me by wireless that he was on his way home and halfway through the Bay. He was, in fact, already overdue at Tilbury, but had been held up while the piston of a high-compression cylinder divested itself of essential portions of its packing.

"Who's going to tell him about Phil?" Gladys asked in consternation when I read her the message. We were getting on so comfortably without my brother that I think the natural affection of us both was tinged with resentment that he was returning by an earlier boat than he had threatened.

"As you are the offender," I pointed out.

"You were responsible for me."

"Why not leave it to Phil?" I suggested, with my genius for compromise.

"That's mean."

"Well, will you tell him yourself? No! I decline to be mixed up in it.

I shan't be here. The day your parents land, I shall shift myself bag and baggage to an hotel. Isn't the simplest solution to break off the engagement? Well, you're very hard to please, you know."