she was dressed in a blue skirt and creamy blouse,
fitting collarless about her throat. Her face was flushed, and wore a
little frown; and as her fingers raced along the keys, her neck swayed,
and the silk clung and shivered on her arms.

Shelton's eyes fastened on the silent, counting lips, on the fair hair
about her forehead, the darker eyebrows slanting down towards the nose,
the undimpled cheeks with the faint finger-marks beneath the ice-blue
eyes, the softly-pouting and undimpled chin, the whole remote, sweet,
suntouched, glacial face.

She turned her head, and, springing up, cried:

"Dick! What fun!" She gave him both her hands, but her smiling face said
very plainly, "Oh; don't let us be sentimental!"

"Are n't you glad to see me?" muttered Shelton.

"Glad to see you! You are funny, Dick!--as if you did n't know! Why, you
've shaved your beard! Mother and Sybil have gone into the village to
see old Mrs. Hopkins. Shall we go out? Thea and the boys are
playing tennis. It's so jolly that you 've come!" She caught up the
tam-o'-shanter, and pinned it to her hair. Almost as tall as Shelton,
she looked taller, with arms raised and loose sleeves quivering like
wings to the movements of her fingers. "We might have a game before
lunch; you can have my other racquet."

"I've got no things," said Shelton blankly.

Her calm glance ran over him.

"You can have some of old Bernard's; he's got any amount. I'll wait for
you." She swung her racquet, looked at Shelton, cried, "Be quick!" and
vanished.

Shelton ran up-stairs, and dressed in the undecided way of men assuming
other people's clothes. She was in the hall when he descended, humming
a tune and prodding at her shoe; her smile showed all her pearly upper
teeth. He caught hold of her sleeve and whispered:

"Antonia!"

The colour rushed into her cheeks; she looked back across her shoulder.

"Come along, old Dick!" she cried; and, flinging open the glass door,
ran into the garden.

Shelton followed.

The tennis-ground was divided by tall netting from a paddock. A holm oak
tree shaded one corner, and its thick dark foliage gave an unexpected
depth to the green smoothness of the scene. As Shelton and Antonia came
up, Bernard Dennant stopped and cordially grasped Shelton's hand. From
the far side of the net Thea, in a shortish skirt, tossed back her
straight fair hair, and, warding off the sun, came strolling up to them.
The umpire, a small boy of twelve, was