“I never cared for it.” He looked at his watch. “If I get to the field in time I’ll have to turn now. Want to come along?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Sue wheeled the grey. “Grandmamma hasn’t been well lately. I shall stay with her to-day. Let’s race home.”
Galloping level, the grey and the brown made back along the shaded road, with the wind tugging harder than ever at Phil’s hair, and blowing out wisps against Sue’s pink cheeks. At the wide, stone gate of Arbor Lodge they drew rein.
“See you to-morrow?” he asked.
“Telephone me,” said Sue. “Meanwhile, you may meet Genevieve. And I warn you——”
“Rubbish!” said Phil.
The polo enthusiasts of the Brampton Country Club were in despair; in particular, three members of the team reserved for the Hadbury game were pulling their hair wildly. But the fourth member was apparently indifferent to the awfulness of the situation—a situation of which he was himself the cause. And the reason for his indifference was not far to seek. The majority of the club knew it quite as well as if he had put up blue-and-white enameled signs beside the advertisements of automobile tires on every fence in that part of the country, and on the signs one line: The Brampton’s Captain is—— But wait.
In their anxiety, the trio who were to go against Hadbury called in solemn conclave upon Sue Townsend. Not that Sue was in any way implicated—Sue had never been concerned in an affair of this particular sort. The three players wished to state the case to her and ask her immediate aid.
“We shan’t keep you a minute,” began Leonard Hammond, when Sue greeted her visitors in the library at Arbor Lodge, “I see you’re going out. But”—his tone was mournful—“it’s something horribly serious.” (Mr. Hammond had constituted himself the first spokesman because, playing Number One in the team, he realised his Captain’s value.)