Now it was Monday morning, and precisely at ten o'clock three persons
set out for the same seat in Regent's Park--the mind of each filled
with one of the others, empty of all thought of the third.

Mary--accompanied by David and Angela--carried towards the seat the
image of her George, but had no heed of Mr. Bob Chater's existence;
she was the magnet that drew Bob, ignorant of George; George sped to
his Mary and had no thought of Bob.

Our young men were handicapped in point of distance. Mary, with but a
short half-mile to go, must easily be first to make the seat; Bob,
coming to town from a week-end up the river, would occupy little short
of an hour. George from Herons' Holt to that dear seat, allowed full
seventy-five minutes.



II.

Upon the whole, Mr. Bob Chater had not enjoyed his week-end; ideally
circumstanced, for once the attractions it offered had failed to
allure.

Mr. Lemmy Moss, in the tiny riparian cottage he rented for the summer
months, was the most excellent of hosts; Claude Avinger was widely
known as a rattling good sort; the three young ladies who came down
early on Sunday morning and had no foolish objections to staying
indecorously late, were in face, figure and morals all that Bob,
Lemmy, and Claude could desire. Yet throughout that day in the