"That philter is operating, you know!" he said, with a leer. "Shame on 'ee to wreck a heart so!"
"I sha'n't talk of love to-day."
"Why not? It is a general holiday."
She did not reply. Vilbert's arm stole round her waist, which act could be performed unobserved in the crowd. An arch expression overspread Arabella's face at the feel of the arm, but she kept her eyes on the river as if she did not know of the embrace.
The crowd surged, pushing Arabella and her friends sometimes nearly into the river, and she would have laughed heartily at the horse-play that succeeded if the imprint on her mind's eye of a pale, statuesque countenance she had lately gazed upon had not sobered her a little.
The fun on the water reached the acme of excitement; there were immersions, there were shouts; the race was lost and won, the pink and blue and yellow ladies retired from the barges, and the people who had watched began to move.
"Well, it's been awfully good!" cried Arabella. "But I think I must get back to my poor man. Father is there, so far as I know; but I had better get back."
"What's your hurry?"
"Well, I must go.... Dear, dear, this is awkward!"
At the narrow gangway where the people ascended from the river-side path to the bridge the crowd was literally jammed into one hot mass—Arabella and Vilbert with the rest; and here they remained motionless, Arabella exclaiming, "Dear, dear!" more and more impatiently; for it had just occurred to her mind that if Jude were discovered to have died alone an inquest might be deemed necessary.
"What a fidget you are, my love." said the physician, who, being pressed close against her by the throng, had no need of personal effort for contact. "Just as well have patience; there's no getting away yet!"
