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line will bring you down in flames! I hear His screaming laughter! fly back to me!

[She is looking desperately up into the sky as if some race of life and death were happening there for her]

[Holding on to a stanchion and leaning far out at the imminent risk of falling in]

One spurt more will do it! Come on, boy, come on! It took death to beat Gordon Shaw! You can’t be beaten either, Gordon! Lift her out of the water, son! Stroke! Stroke! He’s gaining! Now! Over the line, boy! Over with her! Stroke! That’s done it! He’s won! He’s won!

[Has been shrieking at the same time]

Gordon! Gordon! He’s won! Oh, he’s fainted! Poor dear darling!

[She remains standing on the rail, leaning out dangerously, holding on with one hand, looking down longingly toward his shell]

[Bounding back to the deck, his face congested and purple with a frenzy of joy, dancing about]

He’s won! By God, it was close! Greatest race in the history of rowing! He’s the greatest oarsman God ever made!

[Embracing and kissing her frantically]

Aren’t you happy, Nina? Our Gordon! The greatest ever!

[Torturedly—trying incoherently to force out a last despairing protest]