"It's a splendid day for tennis," said Marjorie. "I think I shall play tennis all the afternoon." "I don't play well enough for this publicity." "It's glorious exercise," said Marjorie. "Almost as good as dancing," and she decided to stick to that resolution. "I never lose a chance of tennis if I can help it." She glanced round and detected a widening space between themselves and the next adjacent group. "They're looking at the goldfish," she said. "Let us join them." Everyone moved away as they came up to the little round pond, but then Marjorie had luck, and captured Prunella, and got her to hold hands and talk, until Fraulein Schmidt called the child away. And then Marjorie forced Mr. Magnet to introduce her to Mr. Bunford Paradise. She had a bright idea of sitting between Prunella and Mary at the lunch table, but a higher providence had assigned her to a seat at the end between Julia--or was it Kate?--and Mr. Magnet. However, one of the undergraduates was opposite, and she saved herself from undertones by talking across to him boldly about Newnham, though she hadn't an idea of his name or college. From that she came to tennis. To her inflamed imagination he behaved as if she was under a Taboo, but she was desperate, and had pledged him and his friend to a foursome before the meal was over. "Don't _you_ play?" said the undergraduate to Mr. Magnet. "Very little," said Mr. Magnet. "Very little--" At the end of an hour she was conspicuously and publicly shepherded from the tennis court by Mrs. Pope. "Other people want to play," said her mother in a clear little undertone. Mr. Magnet fielded her neatly as she came off the court. "You play tennis like--a wild bird," he said, taking possession of her. Only Marjorie's entire freedom from Irish blood saved him from a vindictive repartee. § 3 "Shall we go and look at the aviary?" said Mr. Magnet, reverting to a favourite idea of his, and then remembered she did not like to see caged birds. "Perhaps we might see the Water Garden?" he said. "The Water Garden is really very delightful indeed--anyhow. You ought to see that." On the spur of the moment, Marjorie could think of no objection to the Water Garden, and he led her off. "I often think of that jolly walk we had last summer," said Mr. Magnet, "and how you talked about your work at Oxbridge." Marjorie fell into a sudden rapture of admiration for a butterfly. Twice more was Mr. Magnet baffled, and then they came to the little pool of water lilies with its miniature cascade of escape at the head and source of the Water Garden. "One of Lady Petchworth's great successes," said Mr. Magnet. "I suppose the lotus is like the water-lily," said Marjorie, with no hope of staving off the inevitable---- She stood very still by the little pool, and in spite of her pensive regard of the floating blossoms, stiffly and intensely aware of his relentless regard.