Thomas slammed the ball with a force which carried it far over the wire

backstop.

"You must not drive them so hard, Mr. Webb; at least, not up. Drive

them down. Try it again."

Tennis looked so easy from the sidelines that Thomas believed all he

had to do was to hit the ball whenever he saw it within reach; but

after a few experiments he accepted the fact that every game required a

certain talent, quite as distinct as that needed to sell green neckties

(old stock) when the prevailing fashion was polka-dot blue. How he

loathed Thomas Webb. How he loathed the impulse which had catapulted

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him into this mad whirligig! Why had not fate left him in peace; if

not satisfied with his lot, at least resigned? And now must come this

confrontation, the inevitable! No poor rat in a trap could have felt

more harassed. Mentally, he went round and round in circles, but he

could find no exit. There is no file to saw the bars of circumstance.

That the lithe young figure on the other side of the net, here, there,

backward and forward, alert, accurate, bubbling with energy . . .

Once, a mad rollicking impulse seized and urged him to vault the net

and take her in his arms and hold her still for a moment. But he knew.

She was using him as an athlete uses a trainer before a real contest.

There was something more behind his stroke than mere awkwardness. It

was downright savagery. Generally when a man is in anger or despair he

longs to smash things; and these inoffensive tennis-balls were to

Thomas a gift of the gods. Each time one sailed away over the

backstop, it was like the pop of a safety-valve; it averted an

explosion.

"That will be enough!" cried Kitty, as the last of a dozen balls sailed

toward the distant stables.

The tennis-courts were sunken and round them ran a parapet of lawn,

crisp and green, with marble benches opposite the posts, generally used

as judges' stands. Upon one of these Kitty sat down and began to fan

herself. Thomas walked over and sat down beside her. The slight

gesture of her hand had been a command.

It was early morning, before breakfast; still and warm and breathless,

a forerunner of a long hot summer day. A few hundred yards to the

south lay the sea, shimmering as it sprawled lazily upon the tawny

sands.

The propinquity of a pretty girl and a lonely young man has founded

more than one story.

"You'll be enjoying the game, once you learn it."




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