Together they made their way round the court almost wholly unobserved, so intent was the crowd upon the struggle going on before them. As the game finished Adrien laid her hand upon her cousin's arm.
“Haven't you had enough of this?” she said. Her voice carried clear across the court.
“What d'ye say? By Jove, no!” said her cousin in a joyous voice. “This is the most cheering thing I've seen for many moons, Adrien. Eh, what? Oh, I beg pardon, are you seedy?” he added glancing at her. “Oh, certainly, I'll come at once.”
“Not at all. Don't think of it. I have a call to make on my way home. Please don't come.”
“But, Adrien, I say, this will be over now in a few minutes. Can't you really wait?”
“No, I am not in the least interested in this—this kind of tennis,” she said in a bored voice.
Her tone, pitched rather higher than usual, carried to the ears of the players who were changing ends at the moment. Both of the men glanced at her. Stillwell's face showed swift gratitude. On Jack's face the 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?”