shadow
darkened but except for a slight straightening of the line of his lips
he gave no sign.

"You are quite sure you don't care?" said Sidney. "You don't want me?
This really is great, you know."

"Not for worlds would I drag you away," said Adrien in a cool, clear
voice. "Frances will keep you company." She turned to her friend. "Look
after him, Frances," she said. "Good-bye. Dinner at seven to-night, you
know."

"Right-o!" said Sidney, raising his hat in farewell. "By Jove, I
wouldn't miss this for millions," he continued, making room for Frances
beside him. "Your young friend is really somewhat violent in his style,
eh, what?"

"There are times when violence is the only possible thing," replied
Frances grimly.

"By the way, who is the victim? I mean, what is he exactly?"

"Mr. Stillwell? Oh, he is the son of his father, the biggest merchant in
Blackwater. Oh, lovely! Beautiful return! Jack is simply away above his
form! And something of a merchant and financier on his own account, to
be quite fair. Making money fast and using it wisely. But I'm not going
to talk about him. You see a lot of him about the Rectory, don't you?"

"Well, something," replied Sidney. "I can't quite understand the
situation, I confess. To be quite frank, I don't cotton much to him. A
bit sweetish, eh, what?"

"Yes, at the Rectory doubtless. I would hardly attribute to him a sweet
disposition. Oh, quit talking about him. He had flat feet in the war, I
think it was. Jack's twin brother was killed, you know--and mine--well,
you know how mine is."

A swift vision of a bright-faced, cheery-voiced soldier, feeling his way
around a darkened room in the Amory home, leaped to Sidney's mind and
overwhelmed him with pity and self-reproach.

"Dear Miss Frances, will you forgive me? I hadn't quite got on to the
thing. I understand the game better now."

"Now, I don't want to poison your mind. I shouldn't have said
that--about the flat feet, I mean. He goes to the Rectory, you know. I
want to be fair--"

"Please don't worry. We know all about that sort at home," said Sidney,
touching her hand for a moment. "My word, that was a hot one! The
flat-footed Johnnie is obviously bewildered. The last game was sheer
massacre, eh, what?"

If Maitland was not in form there was no sign of it in his work on the
court. There was little of courtesy, less of fun and nothing at all of
mercy in his play. From first to last and without reprieve he drove