myself proficient. You were equipped for lawn-tennis, I think, when
I saw you yesterday. Miss Goff is a celebrated lawn-tennis player.
She vanquished the Australian champion last year."

It seemed that Byron, after all, was something of a courtier; for he
displayed great astonishment at this feat. "The Australian
champion!" he repeated. "And who may HE--Oh! you mean the
lawn-tennis champion. To be sure. Well, Miss Goff, I congratulate
you. It is not every amateur that can brag of having shown a
professional to a back seat."

Alice, outraged by the imputation of bragging, and certain that
slang was vulgar, whatever billiards might be, bore herself still
more loftily, and resolved to snub him explicitly if he addressed
her again. But he did not; for they presently came to a narrow iron
gate in the wall of the park, at which Lydia stopped.

"Let me open it for you," said Cashel. She gave him the key, and he
seized one of the bars of the gate with his left hand, and stooped
as though he wanted to look into the keyhole. Yet he opened it
smartly enough.

Alice was about to pass in with a cool bow when she saw Miss Carew
offer Cashel her hand. Whatever Lydia did was done so well that it
seemed the right thing to do. He took it timidly and gave it a
little shake, not daring to meet her eyes. Alice put out her hand
stiffly. Cashel immediately stepped forward with his right foot and
enveloped her fingers with the hardest clump of knuckles she had
ever felt. Glancing down at this remarkable fist, she saw that it
was discolored almost to blackness. Then she went in through the