She sat down by his side and he scarcely noticed her. To get seventy runs in sixty-five minutes was all that mattered in the world. Other things must happen on the face of the earth ; births and deaths and marriages and wars and financial crises ; but surely not now. They must surely be suspended while the Eton caps were driving and hooking and cutting and glancing every now and then at the clock. There was not room in the world for anything else just then. There was a confusion between the wickets. Someone had called a run and his partner waved him back. Too late ; his bails were off and a good wicket was lost.

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Page 149

CHAPTER XI

on the off in the hope of a catch. It was hard to score safely ; but score they must. A lucky snick rose above the heads of third slip and rattled against the boundary fence. Now the slow bowler tossed up simple looking leg breaks to tempt the batsmen to hit out. In the long field the striped caps were on the move. He sent down an extra slow one and Sanders Jacobs ran out and slashed it full pitch among the crowd many feet above the heads of the fieldsmen. Ninety to get and still eight wickets left. The slow bowler was expensive, but the Harrow captain knew his business. Two overs later the bowler's arm came over slowly and Sanders Jacobs ran out to meet the ball. A final flick of the wrist sent down a short fast one, which landed half-way down the pitch. The batsmen struck air and looked round to see the bails in the wicket-keeper's hands. A howl rose from the dark blue ranks. The next man hurried to the wicket, but, in his eagerness to win the match, skied a terrific drive high and far out in the field. But not far enough. As the batsmen crossed for the second time, the ball dropped in a striped cap's hands. Eighty-one for four.
Peter and Bridget joined them on the coach. The points of Denis's stick-up collar rubbed against his neck. His hands were hot and moist. His whole life was bound up in the match.
" Well, who's winning? " said Lady Bridget.
" Can't tell."