“I think they’re goin’ to announce Philip’s engagement tonight,” Claire declared.

“I haven’t seen Philip since we left this town,” Kit reflected.

Regan realized she hadn’t seen Philip since that last night when they got into a discussion about Athena. She remembered now that Philip’s assessment of the situation had turned her off, yet in an odd way had been a comfort.

“It’s one of the hazards of being an heiress,” he had said. “In a year or two she’ll have run through her inheritance and be back home with Daddy. Wait and see.”

Regan found herself wondering whether Philip knew that Athena had never gone home to Daddy.

After breakfast they spilled out onto the Cornmarket, where legendary traffic congestion, throngs of people, and the addition of three fast food chains belied the fact that by just stepping behind the college walls that lined Oxford’s downtown area, you could be transported into another world where medieval charm remained intact. Tradition and progress were always at odds with each other in this picturesque town of soaring spires, exquisite gardens, flowing rivers and wide open spaces. Known as the “cyclist’s city,” it was also a major manufacturer of automobiles.

After wandering around for no more than half an hour, the group decided to split up. Everyone had a different agenda and it was too hard to keep track of each other in the midst of all the Saturday shoppers.

“Let’s rent bicycles and ride around the countryside,” Regan suggested to Kit.

“I sure could use the exercise. Let’s do it. They probably have the same bicycles we rented ten years ago,” Kit replied.

“Oh God, I hope not. I don’t feel like spending the afternoon trying to put the chain back on mine,” Regan said, remembering her bicycle’s knack of falling apart on deserted roads three miles out of town.

They rode around Oxford, commenting with disgust on all the new construction. They swung down to the southern part of town, cycled past Christ Church Meadow, and at one o’clock they stopped for lunch in a pub along the Cherwell River. They sat at a table by the window and breathed in the scents of the damp earth that was slowly being warmed by the tentative sunlight, and the musty, oaky smell of the pub. It brought back memories of the Keble boys with whom they had gone pub crawling.

“God only knows what happened to those guys,” Regan pondered as she took a sip of rust-colored lager. “Wouldn’t it be fun to see them again?”

“Oh, they’re probably all working in London and making piles of money,” Kit replied as she looked out at a relaxed group punting slowly down the river.

“It’s hard to believe that when we knew them they were the future leaders of this country. Remember knocking on Ian’s door?”