“I'm not nearly good enough to play with Mr. Drybeck,” protested Mavis, with what that gentleman privately considered perfect truth. “I shall be dreadfully nervous. I'm sure they'd much rather have a men's four.”
“Not, I imagine, if you are suggesting I should make the fourth,” interpolated Gavin, throwing her into confusion, and watching the result with the eye of a connoisseur.
“They will be able to make up a men's four later,” said Mrs. Haswell, quite unperturbed. “I'm sure you'll play very nicely, my dear. It's a pity your uncle couldn't come.”
“Yes, he was so very sorry,” said Mavis, her face still suffused with colour. “But some papers have come in which he said he simply must deal with. So he made me come alone, and make his excuses. I don't feel I ought really to be here.”
“Yes, dear, you told me,” said her hostess kindly. “We're all very glad you have come.”
Miss Warrenby looked grateful, but said: “I don't like leaving Uncle to get his own tea. Saturday is Gladys's half-day, you know, so he's alone in the house. But he wouldn't hear of letting me stay at home to look after him, so I just put the tray ready, and the kettle on the stove, and ran off to enjoy myself. But I do feel a little bit guilty, because Uncle hates having to do those sort of things for himself. However, he said he didn't mind for once in a way, so here I am. It was really awfully kind of him.”
Her pale grey eyes hopefully scanned the circle, but this recorded instance of Sampson Warrenby's consideration for his niece failed to elicit comment from anyone but Mrs. Haswell, who merely said: “It won't hurt your uncle to get his own tea. I shouldn't worry about him, if I were you.”
She then handed Mr. Drybeck a box of tennis-balls, saw all four players pass through the wire gate on to the court, and sat down on the garden-seat, inviting Gavin to join her there. “It's, a pity Mrs. Cliburn is late,” she observed. “If she were here they could have proper mixed doubles, and it would make a more even game. However, it can't be helped. I'm glad Sampson Warrenby didn't come.”
“You said you were not.”
“Yes, of course: one does say that sort of thing. I had to ask him, because it would have looked so pointed if I'd left him out. You can't leave people out in a small community: it makes things awkward, as I told Henry.”