They won the next game and the next. Delia, half amused at the little Hammond child's spirit, was playing badly.
From the Pavilion, Muriel heard Mrs. Waring's voice:
"Your little daughter plays a good game, Mrs. Hammond. You must be pleased to have her at home now."
"Yes, it is delightful. Naturally I missed her dreadfully," answered Muriel's mother.
Someone beyond the net was asking, "Shall we play it out or have sudden death?"
"Sudden death," declared Delia, in the voice of a judge; but Muriel did not care. Neither death, pestilence, nor famine could affright her now.
"Game—and set," said Godfrey Neale. "By Jove, Miss Hammond, we must have some more like that!"
Sunning herself in his smile, she walked back to the Pavilion. Congratulatory smiles met her. For some reason, utterly unguessed by her, she had become a heroine. That Delia's defeat could be sweeter than honey to Marshington never occurred to her. She accepted the glory of the moment as it came.
"I say, Mu"—she had forgotten Connie. She turned upon her now with sudden irritation. But Connie had had no triumph. She was thirsty. She was bored. She thought that Muriel had had enough success—"do you know that your safety-pin's come undone, and you've got your blouse all out behind?"
Muriel fled to the cloak-room.