It is near the end of the Lent term at Cambridge, a raw, damp day. The grey clouds are drifting thick and low, over the flat fen country, and a fine mist is falling steadily. But for once no one seems to mind the weather. It is two o’clock, and from all the colleges the men are pouring out in groups, on their way down to the river. Hardly a soul in the University remains behind. Even the reading men have closed their books for the afternoon, have given up their daily constitutional out beyond Trumpington, and are going down to see their college eights row.…
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