on his outstretched hand.

"You malign me, Miss Westonhaugh. Snap is no less obedient than I."

"Then why did you insist on playing tennis left-handed the other day,
though you know very well how it puzzles me?"

"My dear Miss Westonhaugh," he answered, "I am not a tennis-player at
all, to begin with, and as I do not understand the _finesse_ of the
game, to use a word I do not understand either, you must pardon my
clumsiness in employing the hand most convenient and ready."

"Some people," I began, "are what is called ambidexter, and can use
either hand with equal ease. Now the ancient Persians, who invented the
game of polo----"

"I do not quarrel so much with you, Mr. Isaacs--" as she said this, she
looked at me, though entirely disregarding and interrupting my
instructive sentence--"I don't quarrel with you so much for using your
left hand at tennis as for employing left-handed weapons when you speak
of other things, or beings, for you are never so left-handed and so
adroit as when you are indulging in some elaborate abuse of our sex."

"How can you say that?" protested Isaacs. "You know with what respectful
and almost devotional reverence I look upon all women, and," his eyes
brightening perceptibly, "upon you in particular."

English women, especially in their youth, are not used to pretty
speeches. They are so much accustomed to the men of their own
nationality that they regard the least approach to a compliment as the