e conversation round to Stella, Alan would always talk of
leg-drives and the problems that perpetually presented themselves to
cover-point. Yet the evenings were always to Michael in retrospect
valuable, betokening a period of perfect happiness from the lighting of
the first pipe to the eating of the last meringue.

Eights Week drew near, and Michael decided after much deliberation that
he would not ask either his mother or Stella to take part in the
festival. One of his reasons, only very grudgingly admitted, for not
inviting Stella was his fear lest Alan might be put into the shade by
certain more brilliant friends whom he would feel bound to introduce to
her. Having made up his own mind that Alan represented the perfection of
normal youth, he was unwilling to admit dangerous competitors. Besides,
though by now he had managed to rid himself of most of his
self-consciousness, he was not sure he felt equal to charging the
battery of eyes that mounted guard in the lodge. The almost savage
criticism of friends and relatives indulged in by the freshmen's table
was more than he could equably contemplate for his own mother and
sister.

So Eights Week arrived with Michael unencumbered and delightfully free
to stand in the lodge and watch the embarrassed youth, usually so
debonair and self-possessed, herding a long trail of gay sisters and
cousins toward his room where even now waited the inevitable salmon
mayonnaise. Lonsdale in a moment of filial enthusiasm had invited his
father and mother and only sister to come up, and afterward had spent
two days of lavish regret for the rashness of the undertaking.

"After all, they can only spend the day," he sighed hopefully to
Michael, "You'll come and help me through lunch, won't you, and we'll
rush them off by the first train possible after the first division is
rowed. I was an ass to ask them. You won't mind being bored a bit by my
governor? I believe he's considered quite a clever man."

Michael, remembering that Lord Cleveden had been a distinguished
diplomatist, was prepared to accept his son's estimate.

"They're arriving devilish early," said Lonsdale, coming up to Michael's
room with an anxious face on the night before.

Ever since his fatal display of affection, he had taken to posting, as
it were, bulletins of the sad event on Michael's door.

"Would you be frightfully bored if I asked you to come down to the
station and meet them? It will be impossible for me to ta