"Then you're just in time for warm work, Mr. Milkshipman," panted the
other.

He bumped down on the thwart opposite the waterman, and thrust
at the oars.

"Row, man, row!" he urged. "The Gallopin Gent's got through."


II


The colour of apple-blossom, coming and going in the lad's cheek, died
away, and left him pale.

He was a splendid stripling, sun in his hair, sun in his eyes; with
something of the lank grace of the fawn about him.

The face was fine almost to haggardness; with long chin, delicate nose,
and eager eyes, very shy.

The boy had broken through the chrysalis of childhood, and not yet
emerged into the fighting male. There was no down on his chin; the
radiance of his cheek was yet undimmed. The soul, rosy behind its clouds,
still tinged them with dawn-lights.

He was a Boy, sparkling Boy; Boy at the age when he is Woman, and Woman
at her best, the playfellow, the tease, the inspiration; free of limb,
as yet untrammelled of mind; with passionate hatreds and heroic adorations.