Be quick; you've not too much time before chapel." Saying which, he takes a running dive from the bank and leaves the luckless Parson to boil over inwardly as he digs his sculls spitefully into the water and begins his homeward journey.
Was life worth living at this rate?
If he didn't tell Chalker about the nets that imbecile old groundsman would be certain to stick up half a dozen sets, and there'd be no end of a row.

That was 7:30 striking now, and he had to be in the chapel at five minutes to eight, and Chalker's hut was a long five minutes from the boat-house.

And then those eight French verbs and that Caesar-- It was no use thinking about them, and Parson lashed out with his sculls, caring little if that hulking tub went to the bottom.

He'd rather like it, in fact, for he wanted a swim.

He hadn't even had time to tub that morning, and it was certain there'd be no time now till goodness knew when--not till after second school, and then probably he'd be spending a pleasant half-hour in the doctor's study.
At this point he became aware of another boat making down on him, manned by three juniors, who were making up in noise and splashing what they lacked in style and oarsmanship.
Parson knew them yards away.