The old river has witnessed many a hard-fought race in its time, but
never was there one more hotly contested than this. Never was the
song of the water more pleasant to my ear, never was the spring and
bend of the long sculls more grateful, as the banks swept by faster
and faster. No pirate straining every inch of canvas to escape
well-merited capture, no smuggler fleeing for some sheltered cove,
with the revenue cutter close astern, ever experienced a keener
excitement than did we.
The Imp was in a perfect ecstasy of delight; even Dorothy forgot her
beloved Louise for the time, while Lisbeth leaner toward me, the
tiller-lines over her shoulders, her lips parted and a light in her
eyes I had never seen there before. And yet Selwyn hung fast in our
rear. If he was deficient in a sense of humour, he could certainly
row.
"He was an Oxford Blue," said Lisbeth, speaking almost in a whisper,
"and he has an empty boat!"
I longed to kiss the point of her little tan shoe or the hem of her
dress for those impulsive words, and tried to tell her so with my
eyes - breath was too precious just then.
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