You've got to do as you're told."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He
arranges things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with
the arrangement. For instance, Betty--Miss Calladine--and I were
going to play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis.
She's frightfully hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take
me on level. I'm rather erratic, you know. Mark saw us going
out with our rackets and asked us what we were going to do.
Well, he'd got up a little tournament for us after tea--handicaps
all arranged by him, and everything ruled out neatly in red and
black ink--prizes and all--quite decent ones, you know. He'd had
the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course Betty
and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
ready to play again after tea--I had to give her half-fifteen
according to his handicap--but somehow--" Bill stopped and
shrugged his shoulders.
"It didn't quite fit in?"
"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off
it just a little, I suppose he felt.
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