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."

"Do you think I ever will?" asked Thomas. He bent forward and began
tapping the clay with his racket. How to run away!

Kitty, as she looked down at his head, knew that there were a dozen
absurd wishes in her heart, none of which could possibly ever become
facts. He was so different from the self-assertive young men she knew,
with their silly flirtations, their inane small-talk, their capacity
for Scotch whisky and long hours. For days she had studied him as
through microscopic lenses; his guilelessness was real. It just simply
could not be; her ears had deceived her that memorable foggy night in
London. And yet, always in the dark his voice was that of one of the
two men who had talked near her cab. Who was he? Not a single corner
of the veil had he yet lifted, and here it was, the middle of August;
and except for the week at Bar Harbor she had been with him day by day,
laid she knew not how many traps, over which he had stepped serenely,
warily or unconsciously she could not tell which. It made her heart
ache; for, manly and simple as he appeared, honest as he seemed, he was
either a rogue or the dupe of one, which was almost as bad. But to-day
she was determined to learn which he was.