his laugh to keep the bite out of his voice.

"Fluke?" exclaimed the Englishman in a slow drawling voice. "I call it
ripping good tennis, if I am a judge."

A murmur of approval ran through the company, crowding about with
congratulations to both players.

"Oh, of course, of course," said Stillwell, noting the criticism of
his unsportsmanlike remark. "What I mean is, Maitland is clearly out
of condition. If he were not I wouldn't mind taking him on myself," he
added with another laugh.

"Now, do you mean?" said Captain Jack lazily.

"We will wait till the match is played out," said Stillwell with easy
confidence. "Some other day, when you are in shape, eh?" he added,
smiling at Maitland.

"Now if you like, or after the match, or any old time," said Captain
Jack, looking at Stillwell with hard grey, unsmiling eyes. "I understand
you have come up on your game during the war."

Stillwell's face burned a furious red at the little laugh that went
round among Captain Jack's friends.

"Frankly, I have had enough for to-day," said the Englishman to Jack.

"All right, old chap, if you don't really mind. Though I feel you would
certainly take the odd set."