Marie and Raymond, Amabel Osling and himself had made up a four to play lawn-tennis on the hard courts at Acton. They had enjoyed their game and their tea. He and Marie had won after a close match, and were in a good humour with themselves. He was forgetting his grievance against her. She liked him playing games; he was a finely built fellow and looked really splendid in his white flannels; if he ordered her about the court like a master, it was a legitimate sway; he knew the game and played well. When, after tea, the other two sauntered off--for an open and unashamed flirtation--Marie had never felt more kindly towards him; she had really forgiven the bearishness of his behaviour, and was prepared to tell him so after a little lecture, which, by the way, she quite looked forward to giving; for she too was fond of domination. She started leading up to the lecture. "You seem to have found something since we last met, Sidney. I'm glad of it." "What do you mean?" he asked carelessly, as he filled his pipe. He did not see her drift. "Hadn't you mislaid something the other night?" Her dark eyes were dancing with mockery, and her lips twitched. Now he looked at her suspiciously. "I don't understand." "You might. I'm referring to your temper." "I'm not aware that I said anything rude to you. If I did, I apologise." "I'm not speaking of myself, but of my friends--my guests." He leant his arm on the table which stood between them. "Meaning Mr. Arthur Lisle?" "The smoke of your pipe blows in my face when you lean forward like that." "Sorry!" He laid his pipe down beside him. "Well, the fact is, I'm about fed up with Lisle." And Arthur Lisle was much in the same case--allowing for the difference of expression--as to Sidney! Marie smiled, but her brow wrinkled. "Sorry you don't like him, but it costs nothing to be polite." "Well, all I can say is that I shall be very much obliged if you'll ask us on different evenings." "That's assuming that I'm going to ask you on any evenings at all." She thought this smart flick of her whip would bring him to reason. "Oh, perhaps Lisle's going to be there every evening?" "Any evening that he likes, Pops and I will be very pleased to see him--with or without an invitation." She relented a little; he looked angry and obstinate, but he looked handsome too. "You too, if you won't be silly. Why do you dislike him so much?" He could not give her the whole reason; he gave what he could. "I see his game. He's always trying to come the swell over me and the rest of us." "I'm sure he doesn't mean to; it's just----" "His naturally aristocratic manner?" he sneered. Marie sat up straight and looked composedly at him. By now she was angry--and she meant to hurt. "That's exactly it, Sidney," she said, "and it's a pity everybody hasn't got it." She did hurt sorely. He had no code to keep him from hitting back, and his wrath was fierce. "Where did you learn so much about aristocratic manners? Behind the counter?"