GATHERING CLOUDS
On the Rectory lawn a hard-fought game had just finished, bringing to a conclusion a lengthened series of contests which had extended over a whole week, in which series Patricia, with her devoted cavalier, Victor Forsythe, had been forced to accept defeat at the hands of her sister and her partner, Hugh Maynard.
“Partner, you were wonderful in that last set!” said Patricia, as they moved off together to offer their congratulations to their conquerors.
“Patsy,” said her partner, in a low voice, “as ever, you are superb in defeat as in victory. Superb, unapproachable, wonderful.”
“Anything else, Vic?” inquired Patsy, grinning at the youth.
“Oh, a whole lot more, Pat, if you only give me a chance to tell you.”
“No time just now,” cried Patricia as she reached the others. “Well, you two deserved to win. You played ripping tennis,” she continued, offering Hugh her hand.
“So did you, Pat. You were at the very top of your form.”
“Well, some other day,” said Vic. “I think we are improving a bit, partner. A little more close harmony will do the trick.”
“Come away, children,” said Mrs. Templeton, calling to them from the shade at the side of the courts. “You must be very tired and done out. Why, how hot you look, Patricia.”