At the conclusion of the set Stillwell, with no pretense of explanation or apology, left the courts to his enemy who stood waiting his appearance in a silence so oppressive that it seemed to rest like a pall upon the side lines. So overwhelming was Stillwell's defeat, so humiliating his exhibition of total collapse of morale that the company received the result with but slight manifestation of feeling. Without any show of sympathy even his friends slipped away, as if unwilling to add to his humiliation by their commiseration. On the other side, the congratulations offered Maitland were for the most part lacking in the spontaneity that is supposed to be proper to such a smashing victory. Some of his friends seemed to feel as if they had been called upon to witness an unworthy thing. Not so, however, with either Frances Amory or Sidney Templeton. Both greeted Captain Jack with enthusiasm and warmth, openly and freely rejoicing in his victory.
“By Jove, Maitland, that was tremendous, appalling, eh, what?”
“I meant it to be so,” said Maitland grimly, “else I should not have played with him.”
“It was coming to him,” said Frances. “I am simply completely delighted.”
“Can I give you a lift home, Frances?” said Maitland. “Let us get away. You, too, Templeton,” he added to Sidney, who was lingering near the young lady in obvious unwillingness to leave her side.
“Oh, thanks! Sure you have room?” he said. “All right. You know my cousin left me in your care.”
“Oh, indeed! Well, come along then, since our hero is so good. Really, I am uplifted to quite an unusual height of glorious exultation.”
“Don't rub it in, Frank,” said Jack gloomily. “I made an ass of myself, I know quite well.”
“What rot, Jack. Every one of your friends was tickled to death.”
“Adrien, for instance, eh?” said Jack with a bitter little laugh, taking his place at the wheel.