ach other, and knew they mustn't, since
there were so many people; but the content of their clasped hands
continued because it couldn't be observed.

The supreme football player sat there staring at a blur of autumn colour
between the lake and the generous mouth of the stadium; and, when the
second half commenced, saw, as if from an immeasurable distance, pygmy
figures booting a football, or carrying it here and there, or throwing
each other about; and he didn't know which were Harvard's men or which
were Princeton's, and he didn't seem to care----

Vaguely he heard people suffering. A voice cut through a throaty and
grieving murmur.

"Somebody's lost his head!"

"What's the matter?" he asked Sylvia.

"George! You're destroying my hand."

Momentarily he remembered, and relaxed his grasp, while she added
quickly:

"But I don't mind at all, dear."

XXVI

Lambert stood in front of them, glancing down doubtfully. Evidently the
game was over, for people were leaving, talking universally and
discontentedly.

"Betty and I," Lambert said, dryly, "fancied we'd invented and patented
that rug trick."

Sylvia stood up.

"Don't scold, Lambert."

She turned to George, trying to smile.

"I shall be happy as long as my hand hurts. Good-bye, George."

"You'd better go," Betty whispered as he lingered helplessly.

So he drifted aimlessly through the crowd, hearing only a confused
murmur, seeing nothing beyond the backs directly in front of him, until
he found the Baillys waiting at the ramp opening.

"If you'd only been there, George! Although this morning we'd have been
glad enough to think of a tie score."

He submitted then to Bailly's wonder at each miracle; to his grief for
each mistake; and little by little, as the complaining voice hurried on,
the world assumed its familiar proportions and movements. He caught a
glimpse of Allen walking slowly ahead. The angular man was alone, and
projected even to George an air of profound dissatisfaction. Bailly
caught his arm and shook hands with him.

"Whither away?" George asked.

"To the specials."

He fell in beside George, and for a time kept pace with him.

"What's bothering you, Allen?"

With a haggard air Allen turned his head from side to side, gazing at
the hastening people.

"Lords of the land!" he muttered. "Lords of the land!"

"Why?" George asked. "Because they have an education? Well, so have
you."

Allen nodded toward the emptying stadium.